It was just a walk down the hall
—the teacher, my mother, and me, skipping—
to another world.

Has my face caught up with, surpassed, my age?

Desire beyond, human-imal it seems,
that whispered body-being. You.

Can one think, in sunglasses, in the park; think
with the children playing and the adult banter,
and someone smoking; and experiment, in ink,