
you have come back in disguise. standing on the edge of dreams; transparent, crackly on the periphery. But looking right at me. And half way to a wave, you recognise, but stop. a constellation you cant see directly. pleiades out the corner of your eyes. more whole than when approached straight on. cant take a straight hit. Makes more sense at a distance. or passing through your t e le v i s i o n. ripped spilling seams transmitter. the closer you blur, cross and double. could see if you were bigger. no satellite or torch to light by. just blown stellar glue and glitter, your reflection in the gutter