Collapsible Structures

Black ink
On the folds of paper leaves
Like mud on the white trees
So many references to leaving

I am certain there was a transition
Between flightless and free fall
When you rose up above the collapsible city
I-beams and scraped knees laid out on the blocks of blocking concrete
And suddenly
Squares erased face and marked back to one
Marched back through a honeycomb of tightly gathered memories
Bordered on sickly nostalgic
A flicker of lighthouse still refusing to stop in its spinning becon

Good things come in threes
Or pairs
Or every blue moon
It all depends on whose leg you rested your head upon as a child
In some ways - we are oceans
In some ways - we are still callow

Go back through your catalog of collapsible structures
And see where you are on the list
See where I am on your list