Elusive : a poem

I would seek that green moisture

seeping from underroot tricklets

but it was not the season yet though

I didn’t know


I am taken by my father

to a green Japanese restaurant

they eat American because I say

I am not ready yet


the perfect season comes I am of age I am ready

and the trees I longed to study

are blank have lost their meaning

framed by roadways

that are never finished


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