she’s glancing at the reflection
in the mirror, at the same place
(from the beginning of time and paint) ,
holding her images even when she’s not
Insanity catches you
Slowly on a gray day
Sheets of rain winter is late
This year maybe it will
with the North Star
piercing my navel
I am traveling
within the universe of the bed
we don’t count days anymore. it is very natural
to be together, the same as getting wrinkles
or gray hair. spring sunlight sharpens
the edges of our faces, making us more aware of time.
I have my wish list, hidden under the pillow,
reread in every deep sleep, memorized by day.
It’s much more than an old piece of paper
with crossed out words, silently vanishing.
you ask me what I’m thinking while
I’m lying in a bed having another attack
of insomnia, and my mind is playing tricks,
filling the room with people I’ve never met
with you it is
like taming wild thoughts
a word trap set up
I have been waiting days for good light
like this morning when the day is beginning
to rise, still on the border of shadows and twilight.
for you I can be twenty years old,
with long hair and a sports car.
you can be a wealthy businessman
with a ranch in Nevada and a house on Bali.
every time she looks at the ocean
her eyes become languorous, her fingers on the
corroded window frame scratching scabs of paint.
heavy shutters pushed wide open