Forgetful and flush in the brilliance of boxes
On flip-paper pages that count down to May
While brown sprigs of plastic will keep me from warming
I think of tomorrow and relish today

Strawberry fragrance entices my senses
My fingers fly high, making words for no song
But a beat such as this one will swell in my breathing
And lost in no music I'll still sing along

Huffing with vigor my honey will grumble
Asleep in the grass of a carpeted stair
While the slits of the bulb-light streams none through the slivers
Of each creamy slat that makes private our air

Colossus and Clock Tower, basements and shrills
Making light of the hammer, the sword and the touch
Of our memories, joysticks to vehicle laughter
Cookie dough; comics, there's never too much

See the warble of sunlight in a day that's too thick
I make patterns in smog that my showerhead bleeds
And when sidewalks are slushy or madness too mad
I'll take glance at my keyboard and see where it leads