THERE WAS A LETTER for Dec in the post-office box. For Deaglan, actually, which was the Irish spelling of his name. Vivien was full of surprises.
in this silence-challenged cafeteria
you sit alone in a room of your own.
are there pictures on the walls in there?
is that what you are frowning at
or why you smile, sometimes, a far away smile?
i want to knock on your door and say, mister
look at this
the sun is shining golden on that girl’s barrettes
that man is painting his house apricot
the little boy in the sage green sweater has a brand new
trike
the world has ended — i know, i know, i know
but hey — there’s another one!