in a middle of a room
stands a suicide
sniffing a Paper rose
smiling to a self
"somewhere it is Spring and sometimes
people are in real:imagine
somewhere real flowers,
butI can't imagine real flowers for if Icould,
they would somehow
not Be real"(so he smiles
smiling)"but I will noteverywhere be real to
you in a moment"The is blond
with small hands"& everything is easier
than I had guessed everything would
be;even remembering the way who
looked at whom first,
anyhow dancing(a moon swims out of a cloud
a clock strikes midnight
a finger pulls a trigger
a bird flies into a mirror)
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