secondhand

When I was a young person my secondhand clothes never fit. The laces on my off brand shoes were uneven. But I held back the cold. I kept cool when the sun cried. I sat in my yard talking to the bees, crying to the flowers that you blow on and let their children free. I carried treasures in my pocket one being an old green toothbrush. The generic rocks that lived in my driveway were a mystery to me. I lived on my hands and knees. brushing and digging. looking for the bones of an ancient beast that once danced on my soil. I never found the bones. I found average rocks and bumble bees. But it didn’t matter to me. Nothing mattered to me. I was me and you were you and I was he.