Learning to Fly

I knew your face

and your mother's;

knew your eyes,

your smile.

Her hair's gone gray.

You remembered me

but I guess I've made myself a display.

Forty-five minutes of baring bones

and somehow that voice

changed things.

I have so little to give the world. 

My guts

are just

made of poisonous things

but there I was,

smiling.