look, it’s a truck, the only time i am allowed in their private world – or for that matter any adult is allowed in their private world – is when i am driving the time machine/ their beds were dragged up to the roof where they sleep in a time zone no one else may enter/ a time zone where there are no secrets i know all their secrets their smells their special tickets to special places their unhinged whispers/ a cookie/ look, it’s a truck/ their dogs and bones their sitting in the shade their broken lights refracted and every kiss in the cookie dark time where moving like the wind is what they do if only inches away one from the other/ it’s treachery they are always poised to watch for because it’s treachery that makes them forget where they came from the abyss/ look, it’s a truck/