I watch myself through fogged up
car windows as I walk through tree trunks
and lie on benches dripping with honey,
watching branches' lungs expand and contract
with the wind. Birds appear, rolling down a bowling alley
in the sky, like pepper being ground onto an omelette,
while I sit on the water and watch the world reflected
upside down in the distorting circus mirrors
I see myself in curtain-clad windows with
overhanging waterfall fairy lights from some other reality,
the first Christmas decorations sprouting a little too soon
like stubborn weeds in a well kept garden, and
I think about my own back yard, being showered
with leaves from jack-o-lantern trees,
and about how sad it is to sweep them into an opaque bag
and to seal away their glow.
I hear symphonies when those veiny leaves fall,
all sinews and nerves and squiggled love notes,
little piano polka dots and delicious tongue rolls.
I am thinking about a girl.
