(no subject)
(just) some things
like
the sun over the chimneys
across the way
and a man on a roof with a camera,
white hat
(a house where i woke up twice holds a
room i dreamed of
more than that,
held a man who taught me
not to feel.)
just (some) things
like
postmodern yard art:
red and blue plastic cups,
cigarette butts
fallen in footprints,
and first autumn leaves on the ground.
a stranger sleeping on the couch and
a girl coming down the stairs,
asking which way
is out.
some things (just)
like before,
but brighter.
i hear your breathing grow
deeper and i wonder,
do you feel my eyes on you?
sunshine through the blinds,
take me on your yellow sheets,
the bed we made the night before.
(you know,
my body bends for you.)
brew the coffee,
set the table.
someone i once knew
comes into the kitchen,
and i look at you,
and you take my hand.
you take my hand.
like
the sun over the chimneys
across the way
and a man on a roof with a camera,
white hat
(a house where i woke up twice holds a
room i dreamed of
more than that,
held a man who taught me
not to feel.)
just (some) things
like
postmodern yard art:
red and blue plastic cups,
cigarette butts
fallen in footprints,
and first autumn leaves on the ground.
a stranger sleeping on the couch and
a girl coming down the stairs,
asking which way
is out.
some things (just)
like before,
but brighter.
i hear your breathing grow
deeper and i wonder,
do you feel my eyes on you?
sunshine through the blinds,
take me on your yellow sheets,
the bed we made the night before.
(you know,
my body bends for you.)
brew the coffee,
set the table.
someone i once knew
comes into the kitchen,
and i look at you,
and you take my hand.
you take my hand.