This is
My best friend's locker
Without hooks, still catching metal.
Crossing ponds with no plans for return.

Air-conditioned hum
And 60% glass.
Milking fangs into
Baby food jars.
You were never mine
Picking flowers
Black and white bathing suit
Curious of a bee

Dear diary,
I've become part of the problem.

Stroking automatic voice with shaking hands
In the most trustworthy tin cans,
On the way going anywhere but here,
With a caravan of picketeers.

This is
My best friend's locker
Without hooks, still catching metal.
Crossing ponds with no plans for return.

Travelling with bread crumbs in the company
Of dogs falling in and out of the comfort of our
Favorite chairs.

You were never mine
Picking flowers
Black and white bathing suit
Curious of a bee

Dear diary,
I've become part of the problem.