You Must Be A Poet, A Lady

There Is No Word For Time. Today We Will Not Think To Number Another Summer Or Watch Its White Bird Into The Ground.

Maybe I Am Becoming A Hermit, Opening The Door For Only A Few Special Animals? Maybe My Skull Is Too Crowded And It Has No Opening Through Which To Feed It Soup?

You See, We Live In A Cold Climate And Are Not Permitted To Kiss On The Street So I Made Up A Song That Wasn't True. I Made Up A Song Called Marriage.

Letters Are False Really - They Are Expressions Of The Way You Wish You Were Instead Of The Way You Are.

I Try To Take Care And Be Gentle To Them. Words And Eggs Must Be Handled With Care. Once Broken They Are Impossible Things To Repair.