i leave my skin on the trees
and my brain in the clouds
my eyeballs sit in the rose bush
(watching all that goes past)
and my toes are stuck to the pavement
my lungs can be found in the nearest mailbox
(if you look closely you can see them still breathing)
my lips are in the catnip plants
kidneys on top of the telephone poles
but my heart,
my poor, beating heart
is with you