Now

When someone

I know dies

I think man

I’m stuck here

The owl’s back

calling at night

a desperate cry

again again again

no melody no

tempo no reply

thirty years ago I left New York

since then wandering Europe

learning just enough of the language

to know very little else needs to be said

waking up's

bad habit

thinking

It looks like

No one lives here 

No one does

life is

not what

you think

it is

she was looking

out the window

I was looking

at