all trees are oaks
  all birds are blue
  in the mountains of a magnet
  are the mountains of you
  i'm proud of my genius just like a painter
  and dumb like a poet i think
  i can just say it from the throats of our wrists
  with full sets of teeth
  vanilla almond teeth
  from vanilla almond tea spent afternoons measuring time in spoons
  a southern run for a late longing to drink
  what's 80 miles in canada or 18 years in the mountains
  where all trees are oaks and all birds are blue, ach' du
  i thought everyone was you
  where forget-me-nots and marigolds and other things
  that don't get old
  don't get old between one june and september
  you're all i remember
  but i'm a lantern, my head a moon
  i married a room where i'll at least keep my hands in order
  and what about the air, lying awake.