In the flat I go ’round, in circles, my belly wander around, proud and satisfied, thrilled and joyful
Like an obscure and confused cumulus, I vanish in corners and stairs.
Queen is in the kitchen, she thinks the sink might sink, when the deluge comes,
Sunny’s in the sky, Heir runs around, Daughters in the garden playing scenes.
I walk the wharf alone, seats, and then dive in deep cold deepth. This cloud ain’t mine.