at work      [I sit]

thinking of that  [never this]



because the things we claim

are nothing more than windless wings

fluttering outside my window



if I could      [never can]

place pulses     [heartbeats]

inside songs like a hidden track at the end of a record



I would          [maybe I will],

but I'm only typing this out

to make a point:



today I am    [here]

letting my stomach form knots around your fingers

as you stroke all the right strings



tomorrow I may not be able to say all this

without cramping at each word



because I know the impossible

is stuck between your teeth.











11/08/2005