That tree is for me.
I bend it when I blink.
I cleave it as my teeth underneath.
I think about how small I can be.
But I'm only mostly water.
To speak nothing of the beer,
the wine,
and the tea.
I make imaginary bands from my imagination of things.
There's a rock I can't make,
a swing I can't take.
Throw two rocks in the water and measure the distance between.
Contact on the surface.
So I would have everything from a star's train.
I think back to several sounds.
The ground's hard and wet and the sky is nice.
contact on the surface,
contact on the surface,
contact
