These are flowers

We yearn for each other
   and want to be together
   The clear glass gleams
We abandon each other
   each day
   streams of light
Life is sad—people just want
   to forget their troubles awhile—
they want to be entertained
Too tight—
   their serious mad crimes
      behind them
   The clear glass gleams in twilight
I isolate myself
   but I don’t escape
Her obsessions all focused
      not linear
There are flowers in your hair, my dear
   my playmate

-January 1, 2010-