At miniature rooms where no one’s found
It’s a desperate sound.
Yo ho! The distant shore!
He stands his feet down
You hear his knuckles on your door.
He wants to send you drawings
Drawings of men with faithful hands
They will make such good boyfriends
He wants to tell you stories
Stories of boys who stomped their feet saying,
“Shut – shut up I am dreaming of places Where lovers have wings.”