Did you know that when you went elsewhere, I tried to cover the sun?
Yellow is a colour but from then on, it wasn’t the colour of the sun.

I constructed conversations about how I could eat breakfast alone
and how the eggs looked amber but how they weren’t like the sun.

Did you know that IKEA isn’t yellow, it’s just the colour of Sweden and
you’d flirt with Sweden because in Sweden the moon is always the sun.

My mother was worried but of course I dragged our dead horse to Spain because
the horse can drink the swimming pool and a beer and then look, here comes the sun.

Thoughts to page, pages to mind, minds to you, you to bed, bed to wake.
Moved up North, got a phone call and knew the Night better than the sun.

I dream to tell you that you are the god awful waste product that rots and grows
in 40 different PDFs but I know the effects of my acrid, skin searing sun:

1st degree burns, spliced cut bangs, juice binge, our best nights indirectly shown
on local news, and drinks 2 years later to grovel until we sort of spoke in song and sun.

Did you know that I like to put cellophane over lights?—blue, pink, orange, red, white.
I put them over that circle in the sky and it is almost always like the sun.