Here I am and feel I am elsewhere,
In the blankest of verse imaginable,
A kind of mindport where she went,
Through a greenacre of vegetables.
A rain went on,a sun still in clouds
Above umbrella, beating about ears.
In front of computer,the keyboard
Dances to fingers, like rain on ears
And her hands hold lady’s fingers.
I am always in a room and outside
As windows are holes in my space
This is how we feel our vegetables,
And a way rain would fall on them
Feeling us soggy and Saturday-like
Both in our here and our elsewhere.


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