Yesterday, for a long while, the early morning sunlight in the trees was sufficient, replaced by a hello from a long-limbed woman pedaling her bike, whereupon the wind came up, dispersing the mosquitoes.
I'd come so far, it seemed, happily looking for so little.
But then I saw a cow in a room looking at the painting of a cow in a field -- all of which was a painting itself -- and I felt I'd been invited into the actual, someplace between the real and the real.
The trees, now, are trees I'm seeing myself seeing.
I'll always deny that I kissed her.
I was just whispering into her mouth.
by Stephen Dunn