The Jacaranda has been telling us every spring
That she too suffers a love of life she believes is right
That hers is a generosity of loneliness
Particular to the beautiful and popular
On the bus, the boy makes a breakthrough
In the field of loneliness, he’s found the missing link
With specifics; a sequence of small planned explosions
Carry me to your room, will be the first thing he’ll say
To her, boss of his own private SETI, he won’t need to explain.
On the floor, the girl is sleeping, her room has exploded
He sits down next to her in a field of Kleenex blossoms
Next to purple highlighters and codeine, the boy is good
To continue the project, no breakthrough is required
In the art of motivation, colouring is basic
For anything alive.
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