the grass moves like the eyelashes of virgins under water

the grass moves like the eyelashes of virgins under water

touches people floating low above the ground
like naughty ghosts

the voices of teenagers bear fruit in the twilight

in everything the stars do not do there is some detachment

if you're lucky
you will see a bat listed in the red book
or a woman who came to the store in a dressing gown

it can be seen on the streetsso independent cinema
that its only viewer is your bone marrow