Sometimes I’m still 
Then I can imagine
And I know the layout
Of the land around here,
So I guess does Mad
Now she’s been here.

She should be able
To think her way
From her place to here 
Through the air
Snowman like I do.

When her thought 
Finds its way here 
I think of her.
Does her mood transmit as well?

Does that what makes me swell
Like a sea balloon oceans spray burst?
Does that when I’m happy down?
What of my thoughts?

Like sperm going 
Doing the bomb run 
By the rivers path
To her mind

Through the open panes
Through the closed planes
To stick in her head like braided hair
Like wires, snaking tentacles.