When you walk down
a secluded street,
rain sinks into the earth.
Ideas should settle in the mind
that easily.
And you also fit
together so perfectly
my words
seem to abuse it.
You’re like a vast room
where all the corners
touch each other
at impossible angles,
as I think of you,
walking down that street,
and over your head a few
flashing swallows
find in the quick sunset
a calm silence and
an excuse for living.