I looked out the window from the street does not always rain It is calm like a comb Resting on the windowsill It is a quiet woman in the waiting Like a tired seagulls flying from the coast Like the stone tablets to hold fast to their own hands Gray suede her back pocket Quietly changed the shape of a lemon I looked out the window from the snowy streets Only the winter street Seven cats and a sleeping car of a man breaking Or eight pairs of identical eye Like being hit empty grain intended no blame They were so affectionate I believe They have promised each other with the promise of the body hunger And the like to ensure the most gentle touch