the day will follow its night
like a Labrador

the post box
the window in the attic
the piano key
the heart in the chest
shall be in complete harmony
with
plank exercises
the apple stalk per ritual
the walking for nothing
clichés and
not a speck of dust

I shall be white and obedient

minutes, rounder than ever
shall pass
through each and one fixed point of the day
plus minus a couple of hours

it will be ok

with eyes clinging to a Boeing
you will love me heaps
and I, with my head in the clouds
shall miss you like snow