She walks up and down the street past my house several times a day.
There is nothing special about my street or my house except when she walks down.
I’m in love with her, but they say she is crazy.
We used to ride our tricycles together around and around before her mom died.
She kissed me on the mouth on my birthday once.
Then something bad happened to her and now she just walks.
Talking to the moon, or yelling at her feet.
I wish I were the moon,
or even her feet.