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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