East River Hearts & Crafts

We were miniature figures in a third grade diorama;
black construction paper set our private panorama
where a pencil punched a hole into the sempiternal night,
embedding a perfect circle of glue-stick moonlight.

I can only imagine the assemblage's eyes
observing our shoebox moment riverside:
someone who loves you thinking,
boy, get it right, and
someone who loves me thinking,
girl, don't hold so tight

girl, don't hold so tight
girl, don't hold so tight
girl, don't hold so tight

.