the book went out the window
and i went running after
you. don't just stand there maurice!
as i write by incandescent light.
i'm in a bind again, beasly.
your voice trails off into the distance...
outside the birds move slowly,
i am leaning forward with my head close to the ground,
studying the minutiae.
there's a girl beneath a tree
industriuosly turning the pages of a large, cloth-bound picture book.
your sweater's on the lawn.
i'm in a bind, again.
don't just stand there.
there's a voice wafting in
an open window. blue
songs are like tattoos....
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1 comment:
aha yes, there's a big poster of him in my room; except perhaps i made him look emaciated and dying from cancer.
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