already katydids have outdone whateverlonging mirrorscould be a 
face for so tomorrow drags the mind is a ragged whisper of confusion a thin 
history of an am-i-really-awash-in-this-kind-of-want however many times
it’s light passes through more than fireflies' over-emerald 
delineations of an otherwise smoke-blue square of suburban shade so how 
many times are you anyway? and why won't you answer?