Teeth with your lights on: white hairs, dusty shoulders, your socks and underneaths very yellowed and your armpits hopefully unlovable I want to tell you that you are unbleachable For the last two years I kept a white vellum envelope thick with ragged coupons in case that one time our trip to the store would be handbasketed, I'd find you between "natural redheads" and "big asses" before the cleared history when my birthday trip up North was fun and you told me my hair "looked better," that made me feel so good, when I turned older than you on the thumb of Wisconsin's palm.