Distant boys
sing from distant hills.
Not rice but raisins are thrown
and the stones that lead
are paved with lemon.
I’m not sauer.
Daffodils are on my head
you carry bells you cry
‘Ai.’
Your lovely neck
You catch my gaze and it’s the same
this eye’s still brown and sun is twice.
I wear a coat of calico
yours
is white.
