At 40 degrees Latitude and -73 Longitude,
he handed me a children’s book and I shook
my head. He called me “kidnappable,” said,
“Oh” too often, stayed four of seven days.

I asked the difference of 27 and 21.
He answered “China,” offered more word
math: 2nd World + Muse Merit = Technology,
Beard < Bald, so “Sleep next to me.”

He plucked leaf-skeletons away, pushed
back onto grass and demanded other-than-
animal visions from rain clouds. I tried
to teach arms aren’t all the same.

We adapted, sponges, made a plan:
Grant good, honest honey. Trade poisons.
Crest clavicle and come closer. Whisper,
“Watch while I become less bad.”

An angel begging anchor, he rose,
followed words about bone, took trains,
fingered the evacuation route trace,
slipped page-presents under my door.

Water-logged, he left for land, mailed
message later, “Dehydrate. Just juggle
beards, Little Poet, and glue of broken
continents. Mountains will miss you.”

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