I open a window
in comes the beating siren of distant frogs
the further car engines forcing rubber to pavement over and over
like the sea brought close
I smell the cold
of freshly picked sawdust
and the night gives distance forgotten by the
blue of day
Leaves of a tree outside give rise to
holes, peeking into a forlongness
To stare out for miles and think
my stare may be into yours
If only there weren't a house in my way
Or another and another
A hill
A bus
A person
Just a flat plain
And your eyes to mine