Shook Up

"I'm
coming
in
November
instead
of
the
end
of
September."
How
can
our
hearts
hold
still
that
long?
We
want
to
fly
immediately
to
Switzerland.
Can
we
really
last
till
November
with
this
awful
ambiguity?
We're
neither
here
nor
there
inside
our
lives
or
out.
We
are
swirling
in
the
cosmic
dust
bowl
of
U.G.
We
want
to
be
spun
into
the
stars
if
only
we
don't
have
to
leave
home.