Alice bangs her head
The words simply will not come
We lie still like statues
A torch the only light
Wrapped in blankets against the gulping sky
Our afternoons are spent cultivating habits
Habits we should have long since left behind
It’s all so very dull she moans
The march
The melting candy
Sticky on our fingers
Turning circles across sad orange skies
I pull the hood over my greasy hair
Too tired to wash the knots out
We will wait
Maybe there will be a surprise or two
She chirrups like a little bird on my shoulder
The light melts like a blade through butter
Should we turn left or right or simply lay still
I think we should wait she gurgles
Water dribbles from her lips
It’s an accomplishment just to be
She says this decisively
I bang my head
The words simply will not come.
