Like children
window-shop the boulevards of their minds
I sample memories, sweet and bitter.
sensations so fresh it stings.
The world is not around me.
Why do I have eyes?
I only see what is not there.


Like children
seek adventure down the avenues and alleys of dreams
I foresee happy endings
and unhappy endings
and possibilities,
numerous as the fine strums of a web
weaved during restless nights

Kiss me on the forehead like i am a child, Father,
My head hurts.