What? A poem that's
Not about me?*
She says with a smile in her eye.

There are bigger things than
Us in the world.
Can't all be about you, I lie.

She leans over, her head
On my arm.
And ocean of crow 'gainst my face.

I turn and inhale like a
Man fresh from jail; an
Astronaut homecome from space.

I love how the wind can
Smell of the snow
That yet isn't flakes in the air.

But ******, I never was hooked
In this way; I cannot stop
Smelling her hair.