Cube on my feather

boy, there must've been a line drawn, a circle
could come back to this. but if it couldn't warm, warm up to the heat i desired
you know that i'll be around there
somewhere just rounding
the corner again
and i'll carmelize after all the windows are opened and clean. just like that.

from the corners of eastern europe ladies with parasols
and lovers with dark expressions worn thick like overcoats
come out into leaning on suppositions like i do, like i do,
and do it all the time. only this is not my home,
didn't build this castle with shrines set for deities not entirely dead,
and you know that i'll be around there
somewhere just rounding
the corner again
and i'll carmelize after all the windows are opened and clean. just like that.

but isn't this the part where
we turn on the lights and things take on a new glow?
and isn't this the turn where you miss me and still
it isn't all you know? but the summers are loud
and boys all crest
in with their wings and their fresh-tested feathers, scratching at
my panes.
but you know that i'll be around there
somewhere just rounding
the corner again
and i'll carmelize after all the windows are opened and clean. just like that.