A young man was planning
On watching a ball game
His team didn’t make it
And so he went dancing

                                                                    I don’t believe in fate

An old man wears long sleeves
Even in summer
Because there’s an airplane
Tattooed on his forearm

                                                                    Or permanence for its own sake

A corsage remembered
Is pure white and feathers
When pressed in a phonebook
It’s dirty and parchment

                                                                    But everyday now proves

A daisy grows freely
An uneven number
Readily counted
Before it’s dismembered

                                                                    The perfect fit

Stars cross and align
And shine bright and burn out
And take this goodnight wish
To see you tomorrow

                                                                    of me and you