All Over By MorningAll Over By MorningA tinkling world of falling silver leaves,you float out backwardsand I follow yousliding on glassy pavementsin between the legs of peoplecrossing a deserted squareunheeded by the empty crowd.I'm in a hall of mirrors each of which reflectsyour figure dressed in whiteexcept the one I look at which is me.I find a crystal door with you behind itand insert the key.I try to do it softlybut the door just shattersand I feel your silent screamcome pouring through the splintered lock,viscid, like weightless blood.I try to push it through the broken door.It won't all go at once.My hands are wet, I think it must be tearsbut no one's crying.Outside, the footsteps of the metachronal crowdare trampling the silver leavesand blood is flowing slowly in the gutter.I feel that you were in there somewhere,running from me.
