I wait until no one’s around
before I ask, when did my feet
stop growing? And what happened
to the picture for this frame?
Is the desert a spit, a wash,
or a friend-less foe? How is it
my teeth have shifted irreconcilably
so? How long have I bitten specks
of sand? Can I have a pearl button?
Is the lone wolf a sun? Why can’t?
Why can’t I ever ask anything right?
for Real Toads