threw a clock at me ,
and then I slipped on my own heart.
You have to laugh at the lovely comedy of it all.
Edit, edit, edit.
The windows are open,
I balance on a skateboard in a hallway:
the world is out there,
she is out there.
Edit, edit, edit.
How many satellites are in the sky?
Everything good is worth dreaming,
so I am told and so I tell others,
until it is time for me to return with burning irresolute heave.
Edit, edit, edit.
Edit, edit, edit.
Deliver on life
as if we were still characters
in its matinee,
the plot is lots these days.
Edit, edit, edit.
sweep the audience
off her feet
with intentions
not conventions.