summer cold

if you think that a daydream is worth anything
montana might stretch a branch in your head,
a cast-iron star trail might circle instead,
if you think that five minutes is worth anything.

a brain pumping branch has grown into an old, wrinkled tree
while stars swirl to compose a billowing sea.
five minutes aren't up, but you seem to be.

are you wondering whether or not i notice you?
well, no doubt, i do
because, among other things, your smoke is blue.