My eyes are white circles above cheekbones on fire
Pale hand gripping my pen
Rounding up to the zero, adding infinite fractions

Letting nine become ten
Two pink doves strut the shingles
Picking crumbs from the breakfast I saved for you dear

And I wish you were here
on this postcard day


Focus on the fine indeterminate line
Where the sky meets the sea
Desperate midweek words, b!@#^ and absurd

Freely flow out of me
Well, I may be a hostage to summer
But I'm a hostage, not a slave

And I'm clear that I wish you were here
On this postcard day


Precious cargo of flotsam: mixed memories on an ocean tide
Swim madly with spice from the orient
On a mystery watery carpet ride

But with the sun going down, the wind goes around
Blows them back out of mind


My eyes are white circles staring down past the point
Of my restless pen
While the ghosts of my youth all sworn to the truth

Call my name again
Two brown legs don't make a summer
But two brown arms couldn't keep me away

Well, my dear, I wish you were here
On this postcard day