remember our dream houses in pink chalk
when flushed down the drain by a raindrop wrecking ball
would be rebuilt nicer
and we'd spend all afternoon in our
aerial perspective banana armchairs
that were only abandoned for
the occasional neighbours' cars
and dinner.
remember how our knees became a canvas
for abstract pastel masterpieces
with ornaments by pointy pebbles
while the sun smiled through the ceiling
painting you bronze and me red.
remember, the walls were so thin
in our asphalt homes that we didn't need doors
but had them anyway.
your house always had a room for the dog
from the dog food commercial
and mine had to have a library with mostly books about orphan wizards.
remeber, when we got bored
we outlined our bodies in the street
creating the most innocent crime scene in the world.