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