that air of ruthlessness in spring

here is the hand -- here is the hand -- on my face

it's not my hand -- it's a beautiful day -- again -- I

can hardly believe anything -- what about you who

are so frequently touching -- some part of the world

what is it you're touching today -- when I touch the

trees -- the trees think man-child -- they are so

wrong -- but it is a human face I put on -- I am

hung up under this weather -- I am hanging on tight

to a swing -- when I go up enough I jump -- then I

am not touching anything -- then the world thinks

I've disappeared -- I am just having a little fun

not much fun at all -- are you sad -- did you touch

the world -- the wrong way -- everything is always

happening -- and not just for show -- I want to

show you something -- I don't care what -- I want

you to look where I say