coffee, a shimmering lake,



your eyes pale as a pail of water

and I

tell my secrets into them

each one chipped like glass figures on a shelf


Iíve, I know,

had had been

dropped parachute-less from an airplane

made to survive in the air


of Pluto or Jupiter

the climate I know now

perhaps unbreathable, toxic, Iíll

have strangled in this strange


the following days

here I am

trailing with

a silver woman