yellow

(that’s the whole point of no return) she said

picking pedals from a chartreuse pistil letting them
slip from her fingers without thought without
feeling as they fluttered to the floor to become some
thing or not that’s why we let them fly
or fade away
it’s like riding in a parking lot and leaving
training wheels on and on and on and never
standing on your own two
(wheels ways eyes feet) we
can/not keep waiting for the okay/go (why) yes/no
--broken glass and open windows—tethered safety
chords and time and rooms and lines and
(yours and mine)
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting
waiting

STOP

(he loves me, he loves me not)