Rattles

March cinder blocks argued with the pollen that day , boy interrupted    the sirens rioted something loud in my ears . 

" I'm late again "

I'm searching , found you , now I lost you .... thoughts fiddle their thumbs at you when they are let to play in a cerebral rush room....That line is music to my ears .

I agreed in accordance to the world and her poet string beauty that day a little more then others . Maybe it was Mary kissing me something amazingly sweet , maybe it was just music .