You wake up.
Its morning and
her eyes are brown.

You had lost a pen
last week and today
you find it under the bed and
the sight of it makes you cry
tears of
happiness, how lukewarm:
You thought you'd never
see it again.

You think that
the floor just looks
so nice, SO cute and nice,
and if you concentrate really hard
you can picture
chalk outlines
of crime scenes and crying scenes:
One of the outlines
Looks Like Her.

But actually,
if you were to spell fall
with a T it would be tfall,
or TALL if you took out
the f, like a tall person,
but that doesnt
really apply at all, does it?
You stop thinking about it
and cry about
your pen some more.

And. Sudd.enly. you remember,
Where did she go?

So instead,

you pour yourself
a glass of whiskey
(for the toothache)

You found her,
hiding, in your
Reading Places