aging

has a theme song a wallpaper
wrapped on the vista
of golden possible
a paper pontoon sunk under a paper lantern
dissolving like shore from day to day
I try to untwist and speak
the doors that swung out into a freezing night
have already slammed a thousand times
faint and creaky, loud and clear
a blink of starry sky, and its evening again
light woollen gloves on aged hands
and im never quite certain
if I am
over or under a rainbow
plastic or tin can