the smell of mint leaves
crunch-smunch happy-ness green
clothes my tabletop

where your/my ingénue once sat down
for breakfast
where your/my hands once laughed
tinker toys the scope of our world

the scent is like a sharpshooter
hurts like scarlet-love glass-marble - don't touch
i bleed easily now

draws your/my soft brownie eyes
from the huckle-stained brackets of your/my memory
draws the breathless whir of your/my feet
mid-chasse
draws the picture of your/my artless naïveté
from raw pinkening oils

the silver of gum wrappers
glints in my airless pockets

the smell of mint leaves
forever in our breath

i miss you