I make other people into paper planes

People call out of the past 
Curving like loose sheets of paper
Bring milk, I say
They bend until
The far edges meet
I fold them quickly
Here, here and here
Make a simple crease 
The triangular shape of strained smiles
Watch them curvingly glide away
Good riddance (I say)
In my ever burgeoning nest of crumpled defeats
Back to sleep