The Sparrow, Li Po, And A Catalogue Of Numbers

There have been two girls crying in the space of one week
One magpie outside singing in a way that sounds he is done
With the sickly bright days of summer
Three crucifixes hold three Christs who suicided in a rocky desert
Lying in a drawer full of dead insects and candle butts
Two eyes reflect the same smouldering fire
The same heat that causes a light against the walls
In the valleys of the curtains, in the unmeasured waves of the drapes
Stray cat hair left to float and gather against the carpet
One big book published in the mind on the line
Gold letters on the voice suited more for the blades of grass
Hues of green in looks of friends left in side streets
Are they alright in two stepped leather shoe dance moves?
We can't see the metaphors for the art
Can't see the art for the dissections
And a corporation of artist friends become one Punch
A little boy become a Judy
Who sings in every club around this town
A cased suit boxed in with a hope shall be released
Two clasps and a loose belt unbuckled
With seven muses and two posing angels left to fly free
Causing mischief between square bed sheets
One candle can only mean One flame to start One house fire
The lipstick scar can be seen on everyones reflection
All the while four men can be seen unloading a cart full of milk
One telephone number, ten digits in total
One number in inches, the length, uncut
A chain of hotels, the first it started in Paris
Named for the poets clustered collection of erotica
All bound between two sheets of cardboard
He would ask many question to the men as they undressed
Everybody has one story
The sparrow would sing out on the sill
Trying to coax the moon from over the buildings
Some evenings the well practiced song would work
Other's the moon would not appear
And the bird would get drunk with all the other musicians
Trusting that they would see their lover's faces again
And upset that they never got to say goodbye
Li Po was one such drunk
He sung to many a seasonal cloud
Coaxing them to be a little darker before the rain
Or a little brighter against the cascade of a sunset
His two eyes were so dark
They reflected everything
And when the moon saw himself in those circles of leaping shadow
He dived deep into the water
Yelling Li Po to join him
They are there today yawning amongst the reeds
While the Sparrow flies the cities sky
Forever asking the sun if she has seen her brother
Leave me by this fire place
Reflecting on the numbers of life
Smelling the smoke on my shirt and five fingers
As my chin rests upon my palm
I will caress the digits that come calling at my door
And when I cry 'It's too much!'
You know I will not mean too many
Leave me
I am falling into the valleys of the curtain
The waves of the drape
And I want to waste no amount of time
Touched by what I find