H O W L

dream
time
rain
hat
flit

down the street
we are hung

over
recovering
talking
in the park
clouds move
a little hole
moves

nothing be
true that
history does
not judge,
but
he left me
so,
I can only,
we never had
more fun,

your parents
are downstairs
eating
we baguette in your bed
then ‘I’ resume
and
nothing be true.

the lines

ought to
becoming
together,
that creates its ‘moment’
but I’m here
and

well,
he should be happy,
we isolated ourselves from the community,
Reality,

this completely
asymmetrical problem,
the moment when power,
the face goes
no,
you loser,
the hat flits
down the street
to land never,
playing the radio
a little earlier
every evening,
you cream

my bed

spread

downstairs eating breakfast?

Everyone wait.

But

fun should be happy.