A Window

what

is your

desire hiding

behind or in between?

is it in that space between

your gaze and a mental picture?

does it taste just like you

stole it? is it a curio

to keep at home,

to keep alive?

like

the static

on the old tv

that’s lighting

up your crumb packed

carpet? is it playful, your desire?

is it a locked door? does it

have a window?

does it have

a fucking

window?