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.