Should you break a window in this song, please write a letter to the singer to apologize for the noise. I will not be laughing. I want to reveal a voice of noises. Everyone likes to pet some version of a cat but it often turns out to be a mistake. The secret music of revision, without an empirical trace. It changes position from the heart’s dial to the old collective. Even forgotten conversation can have a body. You and I in a humdrum daydream again, telling each other which secrets to conceal. I wish this ice floe was less truthful, that its hands existed. Something to light on fire with a wilting cardboard match. With every generation of nests and candles, bitterness drinks blood. My gray jukebox still contains your enchanted nickel.