A letter on a paper dress
the words dry on the pavement
and streets too soft
to hold me up
Stumbling home to nothing
My hands are blue
my eyes are red
my lover's left forever
a fire on a rocking chair
laurentian stones grow colder
i dance with leaves
at four am
they avoid my crooked pathway
and i watched birds
when i was young
but they never
let me catch them

should be working. typing with frozen fingas
love this long underwear.
molasses spills banjos and birds into the street.
streets i love, they are colorful and crooked.