Thursday, September 30, 2004

Aspirin

in my dream you're dead
we're talking on the phone

the old fashioned kind with
a cord that embeds itself in
fingers then twirls and twirls
on its own fascinating cats
who jump on anything that moves
with a bit of strangeness

and you're talking about my
father how you've met him now

you say he's lost weight or so
he tells you

and I keep trying to change
the subject: do you wear shoes,
did your headache stop and is
there light everywhere

hung in the trees like apples
shooting from your fingertips
like spiderwebs

is there light and is there
soft cake in heaven?


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