Whywolf

                             The prettiest thing was when                            You spat into old milk bottles. At  the time I was six,     and I was at the museum downtown,  the milk bottles smelled                            Like neglect, or that was just                              How I feel in introspect. You where my only           friend, whose wit and beauty was only for my eyes, you smiled                            When We stared at those things                             That belonged to the downtown You had a wonderful idea    and you tugged at my hand telling me with you're laughter that