His Irish accent
He jumps you in the subway
I love you

I enter a shop and see girls playing cards
the girls wear flaming red dresses
the kind you find in the theater

Here I am, alone in my room, feeling lonely. 
Loneliness is horrible. This is an objective 
statement. Sometimes I think to objectify 

I write this for your eyes and ears and heart

If it makes your eyes sore

                                 ears weary

Sat for three days in a white room 
a tiny truck of white flowers 
was driving through the empty window

(2) photos of Anne
                        80 years old
                                          lovely, as always

The green world thinks the sun
Into one flower, then outraces
It to the sea in sunken pipes.

They are preparing to begin again:
Problems, new pennant up the flagpole
In a predicted romance.

Silly girls your heads full of boys
There is a last sample of talk on the outer side
Your stand at last lifts to dumb evening

I give up:
I bleed I must know.
Grant me the