sunburn

madness is an art
those are sockets
filled with mad dreams
old books
crates of apples
a sunny afternoon in papa’s lap
flying  off the neem tree in the old house
you and I
once lived in
gaping sockets
that won’t shut
like button eyes on a teddy bear
staring
shocked
at the sudden jerk
and then
a hug
it is freedom from these eyes
from dreams
that I
dream of
closing eyes
while driving through
the swarm of the rush hour
how easy it seems
though…