white wisps
of bird
linger leisurely
before me,
until they're shot
by the fan
out the window.
there is no curtain rod
but a pillow case
thumbtacked
in place.
the window opens upwards,
held ajar by a jar
of dehydrated
algae.
we spin around the center
and the center spins back.
everything
revolving
round
everything.
another bird is born
and floats gingerly
around with
newborn
curiosity,
riding
the fan wind
round the world.
if an egg hatches
under a lampshade
a volcano is born.