Simple, simple it used to be. Riding bikes through the city. But you can't make it better. And you can't drop out of sight. . Sundays, Sundays after awhile.
Some of them were superstitious. Sitting with their backs facing the orchard. All of them with mittens on their hands and feet. Were waiting there for winter.
I'm circling around you. We're headed for the starlight in the meantime. I love your spiral hair. That you remove and lay it there around me. Sometimes the starlight.