Do lakes and stars get sick?
Do cobblestones have spirits?
Is rain removable?
Do you know how depressing to Morning
When she finds characters in bed
who has no desire to get up early for fresh air?
Can you sense the frustration
when a flat of stylishly dressed December is being misjudged and taken down?
Don’t you agree
That love is a tourniquet tightening the bands
about the quickly vanishing wrist of freedom?
Due to the acid of truth-everything is possible:
To be a toy snake on a TV show,
To live on crumbs of bread,
To act like a cat,
Constantly listening to the call of the Sun.