and fall out of your bed
 mean cats eat parakeets
 and this one's nearly dead.
 you dearly wish the wind would shift
 and greasy windows slide
 open for the parakeet
 who's colored bitter lime.

 open the window
 and lift into your dreams
 lately  baby
 you can barely breathe.

 a broken wrist
 an accident
 you know that something's wrong
 you fold the leavings of your past
 no one knows you've gone.
 the sunspot flares of the early
 nineties light up your wings.
 and scan the shortwave radio
 it's tracking outer rings.

 the tectonic dispatcher shifts
 to smooth the ocean floor
 and flattens out to warmer winds
 of Brisbane's sunny shore.
 where buddhas tend to mending wrists
 a tea made from the leaves
 of eucalyptus fragrances
 and coriander seeds.

 you wake up in the morning
 to warm Pacific breeze
 where mean cats chew on licorice
 and cannot climb the trees.

 open your window
 and lift into a dream
 baby, baby
 baby starts to breathe