No, I’m not doing anything,
With all this time and all the rosemary in your eyes,
Or my eyes,
One day I will live in Italy,
And I will have a garden,
With herbs and clementines, I know all about it,
I’m an expert because I see it in my dreams, and in fact three of a seven minute video,
Like jellyfish are so old,
Floating around in cosmic soup,
How are you today?
I am alive, I think I am alive,
Why do you get up in the morning?
Will you tell me all about it, how you spend all your time,
If you cook at home or get takeout,
Do you even eat at all? Something,
Like this, makes us human,
What did you choose to put in your box, if you had a box,
Who will lead the talk on you, who will put the music over your end credits, who will choose the shot that lingers,
Who will write to you my darling on the first pages,
It’s your book,
For my sons, for my lovers, for my dog,
The house will be shady, and older than me,
A mystery of how many people have breathed the same air as I have,
I see the lines that time,
Has a habit of tracing.