The silence between me and ou has never had meaning.
It wa. Love it, that was all that was asked.
But now it has happened no ords for the foretime,
the desperation has made me the same, has made me another.
Who looks at the shape of the fish grow giant on the side of his bowl?
Who walks on the terrance observing foilage from above?
who hears the snapping of plastic that wraps like cellophane bare branches of climbers?
You don't know,
and I who descend the stairs neither.
I am the same,
I am another."