On the parrot green bench ,the winter is still around. The sun seems recent.
This morning we thought about the old heads talking. The old heads are some bodies to look up to , uncles and aunts. They bob up over street crowds turning to the side streets. They go sit in old mausolea .
The recent ones will look up to their heads . The recent ones find their words from their dark staircases invisible, quiet and some times ascending.