you're not in love with her.

you're not in love with her

you're not in love with her

yes i am

i said to the man standing

at the end of his driveway

looking off into the sunset

as if he were dreaming of me

and my wife, riding in a motorcycle

and talking about meat and wine

and suddenly a caterpillar walks

across the sidewalk

careful of its movement

minding its own business

you are a unique design

the caterpillar said to the man

don't believe what they say

it's hard says the man

as he watches the man on the

motorcycle fly by

and he himself lives in an ancient

house full of moth balls

and he drowns out his sorrows

with guitar music and hides in shame

but the woman loves him all the same

in a faraway world where the grass

is green and he is not in it.

his eyes are like glass stars

that reflect nothing

i don't know what else to say about him

she says to the caterpillar

and he looks on into nothing

thinking of the best way to

explain his thoughts

which are molded on

the sidewalk forever

etched in sand and time.