jittering pleasantly in the street
we watched the house we loved
fill up with strangers' things

there's a needle-eyed baron
peering at my windowsill, he's
taking measurements of my room
guess now he pays the electric bill

he throws my furniture out to the street
i kick his stupid car
ask him does he know where his kids sleep

sorry

window sun on
coarse blonde hair
prisms bending light upstairs
i watch her work
my friends outside
break a glass, won't say goodbye

sorry