Petty Theft

we don’t steal for necessity, but to know that no one is watching. and you always told me that crime is ignorance: the quickest manner to throw a life away, and that childhood is for growing up. but oh to be young and senseless–heartbroken and wandering, we belong to the coarse branches of trees and their gnarled roots, peeking out and ebbing over. we exist to fall back down and run away from a place frozen in time, to forget and then remember. intention is forgotten in sleight-of-hand—stuffing a bag of chips down a pair of pants. we belong to everyone hiding in shadows; hunched over, we float away, but not too far: because the weight of our actions always pulls us back down. and the thrill of a moment is lost in translation.