Untitled Dream

I’m here,

in a small moment

looking

for windows

to break

this isn’t rebellion

I tell my mom

I broke a jar on asphalt

picked it up with my hands

I listen to melancholic

silence

in big rooms

I nod

and sweep by people

I don’t hand out flyers,

or paint t-shirts,

I stay inside my head

dreaming

about bony limbed frogs

who push against me

and eat each other