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.