I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.

Everything obeyed our laws and
we just went on self-improving
till a window gave us pause and
there the outside world was, moving.