Comedescend

Winter is dying.
Birds fall from the sky
and plastic bags hang on to naked trees
I raise myself and
the window shows me
blue

When the sun goes up in Beijing,
it is still 2002 on Glenferrie Station

in a big supermarket in a foreign country, I once saw a girl looking for some thing.
she found
it

Amusing to think how true all this drama really is

Will the tree remember the sun that shone the winter away
and if not, will that prevent the sun from shining again

We walk hand in hand,
I slow down and make myself heavy
on your arm
I open my mouth
“Pull me”
but you can not hear

and still,
you pull.