All our afternoons with sunlight marred.
What funniness there is to find
In low clouds drifting brightly on parade
as if attached by string this textured sky
Lifts us together - basketed, ballooned
Like the ones in black and white film
Light and dark and old and young at once
From our mouths escaped those clouds
And from our feet the grass grew long and rooted
Were we to grow as one, inflated love
Perhaps we would have left these days behind
With soiled sheets and linens damp
Back then we lived like sunshine - but today
I can live like the chicken, coop or not.