Apples Through the Glass

We hit the street like a bad idea. Shoes too fast for second thoughts.

Apples heavy in our jackets. Stolen from the edge of the day.

No plan worth writing down. No reason clean enough to keep. Just noise in

our hands and a place that didn't belong. We weren't angry.

We weren't brave. Just bored enough to try the lock. On something everyone

ignored. They laughed at him from passing cars. Called him finished,

called him done. So we aimed our arms like questions and started throwing.

The glass went up in sound. Mid-take was rough and over-browned. Still breathing from