pinned to the trees

(I've been expeimenting with surreal/beat style poetry for a bit, but I seem to be better at confessional poetry. This is an example of my surreal poetry, which I may stop writing.)

back then, the old times
we’d fish me & you & share cake
i was calm then & you’d talk of sidewalks & sneezes
fair days, you’d wear your badge of reason
but chiefly that old mug, you’d grab that first
& we’d fry the fish, your purpose was as agonizing
as a fireman who’d turned into a spy
boy that was like a salt letter
the boot was tight as a violet crow
horrible now i think of it
did you intend a gabby & light &
a well-made bolt that could melt at any
hesitant crawl a calculating & hard-to-find flow
perhaps we’d been elves in a pet aquatic store
now it’s cold & unhealthy
did you see the little dolls pinned to the trees
we had no business there
include that bottle
i suspect we should not have given
a treat to that squirrel