They hang in a corridor on
black metal pins with red and blue caps.
It takes no special gravity to hold them.
Each has its own glass cases lining the walls.
Each of them could be its own world.
My Polo was an opthamologist,
sticking straws of light in your windows.
I hang a hammock between your eyes
and pick my teeth with the straw.
You pace a little and wonder.
The hammock swings as you walk.
I write down what you see. Perfect!

April 19, 2006