It is strange
when it hangs like an abandoned coat –
unnoticed in your own room till all else disappears.
And one moment
you suddenly know what to wear it with –
why it smells of all the right things,
also how it fits in the room
as perfect as a hand in a pocket.
In the wind,
it is a green ripple
that brought the driftwood of your door;
a change of syntax
long before before long
and is it not strange
is it not
that you leave it there untouched, untold
too scared to shake
even the change in its pocket?
if love comes fast
like three minute popcorn;
an early delivery from McDonalds
like lice in your hair one morning
and stuck to more places than it appears.