I can’t explain

How I know

things will be better for you.

Maybe I saw your face

 in the black frosted glass of a dream.

Perhaps I saw your eyes,

Reflected in a Metro window.

Maybe I was jet lagged in Paris,

Maybe I was drunk in LA.

I’ve got a breadbasket full,

mute words never mine to own.

I remember how my head

 fit perfectly under your chin

In some garden of grey shadows.

But then the sun came

streaming through the blinds,

Screaming through my mind.

And I knew

Things will be

better for you.