migration to a town where
tree swallows houses
migration to a town where
tree, swallows, houses

like a mime troupe ( stowin' (?) ),
we're all aging doubles.
we sing,
we danced,
shoes on shoes
to the sound of the spinning
machine.

and we slept arm-in-arm,
so soundly ignoring the outside
sounds of the ongoing horrible scene.

# jé donegá