brought to you by s1ng2m3. Relax. If your clothing is tight, loosen it.
THE GOOD LIFE by Mark Strand
You stand at the window.
There is a glass cloud in the shape of a heart.
The wind's sighs are like caves in your speech.
You are the ghost in the trees outside.
The street is quiet.
The weather, like tomorrow, like your life
is partially here, partially up in the air.
There is nothing you can do.
The good life gives no warning.
It weathers the climates of despair
and appears, on foot, unrecognized, offering nothing,
and you are there.
THE GOOD LIFE by Mark Strand
You stand at the window.
There is a glass cloud in the shape of a heart.
The wind's sighs are like caves in your speech.
You are the ghost in the trees outside.
The street is quiet.
The weather, like tomorrow, like your life
is partially here, partially up in the air.
There is nothing you can do.
The good life gives no warning.
It weathers the climates of despair
and appears, on foot, unrecognized, offering nothing,
and you are there.
