"--Still Missing."
"Sometimes, the gladiolas backfire in my face.
I get headaches for days when I read in the dark.
When I cross the bridge at midnight,
I pretend I'm a sparrow escaping a star.
Escape is not something I ever take lightly.
Behind me is a light with a lampshade most grave.
I lay my eggs neatly in the crest of a wave
and tell them to wait there until I get home.
Sometimes, they listen, and sometimes, they don't.
I open the door and pass through an elephant, my hair
full of dust and the shadows of bells.
Someone points out a large hole in my pocket.
On the teeter totter, I feel like a million bucks."