The dog was barking next door.
I suppose it was his job, his habit,
his weakness to bark at shadows.
I was thinking about swans
..and a frog
and love floating away,
as cigarette smoke through an open window.
dissolving in the air of the millions.
the melancholy of it
best expressed in a sad French song
soft sang by a girl
for
love lost on the echo of some wanton words.
Something called everything dies, yet remains, as ghost,
wandering in the empty rooms in their minds.
