Peanut

i wonder if
behind dark eyes
like delaware grapes
the brain squishes and turns
face forward, examining the
bark on a tree, the way it
peels off little by little
to show the paths underneath,
inked by calligrapher termites or

in front of an upholstered backrest
the papers you’re looking at bear
letters that make sense,
bits of nonsense arranged in pattern
that make you vibrate inside
with the train through Itayado

as i watch you
all i can hear is the off-key
wail of a teenager,
singing to hear himself, not
that we around him have a choice
in the matter

what if when you put the nest together
you twisted up your fingers in it,
mixed it together like cement or steel
and later,
realizing you needed them
wanted only to make it known

like a peanut in the shell
the first person ever to see you
is the one who opens you up
and they’re the last one to
ever see you