My Name

just the beginning,

slithers off wet lips
like it’s charming.

“Mmmmm.”

Mockingbirds and Mallards
sing of my
slick footprints.

I step in.
I step out.
He stepped out.

We spread together as far as Summer would take us.
We flew down south in high, asthmatic screams;

nocturnal – fugitive.

At first blush they call,
crested blue,
aggressive,

at least to human ears.

His after tastes like a razor blade,
but I am a glutton

and so they
chirp, chirp, chirp.