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Rated: E · Crossword Puzzle · Other · #2001931

Sometimes our minds are terrible, and therefore can be glad.

I think the world is all my window-ledge,
the leaded glass an undulating Andromeda,
outside a lie.
Papers fall through the door and whisper in the hall.
What is the hall?

Barely perched in my knee hug stance
Witnessing the vision of a dream
Where flowers hang and winds sing through the old wood frame,
whistling like a friend in my memory,
who used to do so when we walked home hand in hand.
Two boys with blonde hair and tanned arms,
seven years old;
a little before the apocalypse,
when the outside was real.

But now the world is all my window-ledge,
twenty-five and I can no longer find the secret entrance to places.

The front door leads outside.

I step out often,
like an astral projection,
puppeteering a man who looks like me through parks,
keeping him healthy in the false realm
that he might return soon to where he left me.

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