A pile of origami basketballs had missed the hoop
Inside was an igloo and a smothered snowman
He’d touched ladies’ emotions
After sunset and sweet warm liquids
Words carved in marrow
With the jawbone of an ass
Out the windows he saw nothing but trees and passing cars
The birds twittered a boring song in the Sun's common glow
He wished the stray cats would get them
The only accessible rhythm was from the flying fortress hum
Of the cheap white fan, with coffee stain teardrops
The fan’s memory is bleak and unmentionable
Its journey a Berlin airlift of rejected affection
A slight grin indicates a private joke
When the clock ticks no sympathy