tonight: the descent of startips
kids wheel around on the middle school blacktop
to catch them, sugar-coated, falling from the sky
like a honeysuckle you have to be taught
to get at their sweetness:
lay
the startip on the broad flat
of your outstretched tongue
where it’ll fizzle dissolving
its gentle glow into your mouth
the underside of a lightning bug
the kids line up to see who can send
a fluorescent wad of spit farthest
the adults aren’t there, only
generous welkin watching
in a corner of the chain-link fence, two girls are kissing
just to get their whole lips painted
up in light
