there is another perfect little Eden
calling for you.
Let it bring you and your shoulders
white lace blots wet pavement,
gasoline rainbows and yellow reflections.
like overheating in bed.
I am sure the clouds appreciate this song.
It is stale at this point.
I watch the clock face
deepen its numbers.
All the desk is red in its shadow.
Everything else is white
It reminds me of a dream I had,
a man all white
in a room all black
hunched, sad, and turned away.
It frightened me almost awake when I reached for him.
I can barely hear the rain when I open my eyes.