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by Paolo Mirando | 23 Oct 2006, 0:00
Mommy, we had sandy pants at dinner today.
No, principessa, that was the day before.
Oh, I dreamed it then.
You remembered it.
Sleepy saint,
I daydreamed this for you.
Prodotto. Papillo.
I thought about it all day and then I dreamed about it all night.
I sang it to you while you slept, principessa.
I made this for you, mommy.
She says call me night light,
call me headache.
She rolls around when the lights are down.
Clockbuzz. The coffee's calling.
The neighbor saw me dancing while I brushed my teeth.
I guess we'll need some blinds, then, after all.
Nonprodotto. No papillo.
Did we do anything today, my darling?
Did today seem like it usually does to you?
_All my weeds are wildflowers_.
Did you dream that too?
No, I remembered it for you.
Frames the haze—hurrying through fog.
He recalls the time she came by with brie and a hole in her pants. He remembers saying don't come back for five to seven days.
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