now the angles of the room seem
pulled together by chance and little else.
you lieing on the floor still as can be.
happy head full of bee pollen
crossed with a linen ciggerette.
your smile is unique.
your fabric skin is course not
smooth like the others.
your hands are wrinkeled.
where have they been for so long?
what is that strange auburn glow
about your eyes?
perhaps you are a lantern
or maybe a ghost.
is that your gown?
you seem to be holding some kind
of tacit knowledge.
maybe you are from my past.
it was then that i saw your face.
dead love on the floor wrinkeled in the corner
the shirts piled up in a mess.
thats where i remember you from.