the night comes all the time,
but we don't die when the sunlight drags itself down the wall with a heavy touch
and the radio sits, waiting to sing

and the kettle burns, all the time
but it doesn't scream out without reason
while the trains pass not a hundred yards away shaking the walls of the house and kicking dust up into the sun

glass bottles sit all the time
flavoring my food, dreaming like an animal
I grow twisted when my body grows larger