These clouds are made of polyester
and rayon. I know this because
anything is possible.

When I was younger I knew things
for a different reason: just because.
Now I want explanations that go on
until I lose interest.

I tried to make a poem this morning
out of a robin's egg. The egg
was robin's egg blue. The sky
above the egg was sky blue.

But soon the egg had a fissure
in its side, and then the poem
had a fissure in its side,
and that was how I knew
that a snake was in love
with the egg.

When I was younger I was convinced
there were three types of love:
Eros, Philos, and Agape.

Now, of course, I'm with the snake:
it's better to love an egg
just because.

I was told by a friend who was dying
that there was nothing
worth dying for. Then he was gone
and it was just me and my polyester clouds.

I think he was referring
to the war. It's funny how we say that.
It's not like we ever say
The Love.

But then again there is the snake:
The snake covets the egg
so much it swallows it whole,
holds it in its belly.
You can see the love there poking
through the flesh.

While human love, my own love,
more often seems poached.
I like a word
with double meanings.

When I was younger I believed
there were three types
of everything. Now I believe
only in fissures
and a sky or an egg
that is its own color.