the birds &/or people outside my window.
they say, "tomorrow we'll bicycle
until the world is flat." then, they turn into birds
& those birds fall like basketballs.
i picture every wall in the city petaling open.
here is the tulip i sleep inside. pink sound.
red sound. our sneakers with desires of their own.
the outside people jump rope & then i am chaining myself
to the bed to listen. i wonder if i am
part of their conversation even if they don't know
i'm only feet away. the sidewalk is always a temple.
children litter the street with their old feathers.
referring to me, they say, "goodbye miniature man."