It’s like the house is full of holes
the purchases go quick
if you looked in from the street
you’d see the other street

outside the oceans mass & spin
the fish are swapping seas
images of newfound closeness
glossy and unnerving

outside an industrial cloud
is keeping out of sight
whole halls set back in ferny hills
of Dutchmen cutting flowers

everyone likes a good bouquet
everyone wants it fresh-from-scratch
the sheets are stale, the thorns are steel
& I wish you were here