It’s nothing too serious, only time
passing.
At night I lean on the kitchen sink
the window’s not a window;

a drink of water, maybe. Or some day’s reflection.
But it’s only the time passing.
I sit down,
I want to leave tomorrow.
But we
never do. Just imagine what life might
be like if we left in the
morning.
But we never do.

Darkness comes,
the most assured function
on Suydam Street. A window,
a mirror

a window. A mirror.

I find anything two-
dimensional to make a house out of.

Advertisement

Filed under: Getting With the TYMZ, Misc