I Fancied You'd Return The Way You

I Like You, But Not Too Much. I Don’t Want To Like Anybody Too Much.

She Stared At Her Reflection In The Glossed Shop Windows As If To Make Sure, Moment By Moment, That She Continued To Exist.

A Black-sharded Lady Keeps Me In A Parrot Cage.

You Are The One. Solid The Spaces Lean On, Envious. You Are The Baby In The Barn.

But I Am I Now; And So Many Other Millions Are So Irretrievably Their Own Special Variety Of 'i' That I Can Hardly Bear To Think Of It. I: How Firm A Letter; How Reassuring The Three Strokes: One Vertical, Proud And Assertive, And Then The Two Short Horizontal Lines In Quick, Smug Succession. The Pen Scratching On The Paper…i…i…i…i…i…i.