the blind space of low clouds
the breze that moves
over my forehead/third eye
the moon that hangs
half and orange

your letter sits by my bed
rode all the way
tide-twisted from China
heavy in love

your words spring toward
my dreaming dreary brain
I suspend your picture
hand's length from my heart
remind me to recycle
change my underwear
and take in my bicycle
for all of its energies
life's lazy in love

the in and out is active
your letter sticks
to never be resurrected
my hands are glue
the sink is the fun
my hands are glue