K And My Childhood.

This rainy afternoon brought you to me.

Years apart- but I now regard you as two separate forms of childhood. Parallel joys and scrapes. Two forms of innocence that stayed and one other that got lost in the untangling of vines and time.

How we all contain all the lives we have lived in this vessel of flesh and blood. How many patches decorate its sides? How many brightly-painted rooms it contains? How many secret passageways it keeps behind the lips that touch the air and wind that might defect to them and betray?

I am the lone keeper of this afternoon’s secret. And the lone connoisseur of the once-bitter pulp. Now sweet after time’s fermentation...