[1] The dense summer grows all around, Pressing its evergreen face to the windows, As it coaxes daylilies, daisies & dahlias Out from the wet earth into a thirsty air. And birds having built their nests in spring Are busy hop-hunting insects in the grass.

[2] This room is empty. This room is full of Books, is full of sweat, is full of longing. Emily looks at you with her one working eye, Her clumped hair dropping over your sheets in Tufts, and her smile becoming more crooked Every morning you reluctantly wake clutching Her, to stare into your empty days, empty fate.

[3] Everything has to have a symbol, a shorthand. Take the seasons. Say autumn. We can speak Of the autumn wind and that restless stranger Who keeps walking up and down the avenues Amidst the ragged orchestras of leaves, looking For some long lost score, when kissing turned Almost fecund, ending in a crescendo of promise.

[4] You are that stranger. This is your absent music. And Emily is a doll who won’t ever call your name. It is that time when you must change your life.