I put on my stage clothes, my
particular shoes. My notes unfold 
themselves, each letter
connected appropriately, following
the others like trains on rails. 
Your fingers deftly snatch each of 
them from the ground and toss
them into disrespected heaps of toys.
I could let my rounded lips loose, 
my staccato consonants pelting 
you like sleet, but kindness is one 
of the things that’s important, like
oxygen.  It can even control the 
weather. I bundle this fact in paper
so you’ll have to unwrap it over time,
if you can find it, while I stare at my
particular shoes.