I don’t blame you for not giving me the time of day.

I’ve been like the cuckoo

in the dream of a giant up in a cloud, who’s pacing

back and forth as if to say stay out of my house or else.

I love the world from behind a door

I can never really open

because I’m the door and I’m always closed

unless I’m writing to myself.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not sorry

the clock in my head is broken.

There’s just not a lot of space between where I am and a view.

Between who I am and you.