I looked at you as if to say
I’d let you crawl inside my head
to perch upon my memories.
From your pupils to the mountains –
I had to look away, bemused.
The kittens from their mother’s mouth
were hanging helpless by their necks.
Dangling free and peering ‘round and
I, desiring all those choices.
That innocent choice of freedom.
They strolled past and I asked again.
I thought you didn’t understand.
Is it freedom in your pupils?
And was I so ignorant of you?