unbrushed

on a monday morning,
I see that girl rushing out
and watch her slip on the sidewalk
and a boy catch her slowly
or maybe I see it in slow motion
I too slip, and the paint splashes
on the walls, falling on ground

I had picked the rollers
out of the garbage, 
to roll on the bare walls
to cover the evidence
of our raw tactility
to give it a semblance

"now watching the boy and the girl, I want it all open"