i sat to close
to the window
to your fever hot, hot
to the mad hatter's laugh
to your worry wound rot
to the soft shelled crab
to your watering pot
to the taxi's cherry break lights
to the red sign's white stop
to the jars of sugar candies
to the callosed feet of the poor
to old man picking his nose
and then opening your door
to the pregnant penguin woman
with her crinkled coat of cash
to the questions in your suitcase
you'd never move to ask
to the plastic egg dispenser
to the permanent marker letters
splashed across the faded posterboard
like whirling modern dancers
and it's all out of focus
it's all too close to tell
if it's time to change the guard
if it's time to clank the bell
it's all a bit of heaven
it's all a bit of hell
fetching your pail of water
drawing wishes from the well
