I have a friend
at the end
of the world
and his name is a gush
of silent water
He is dressed in grey chiffon
It has a peculiar look, like smoke
It wraps him round
it blows out of place
it conceals him
I have not seen his face
But I have seen his eyes
as raindrops on black twigs
in December, and I heard him say:
I am a gush
of silent water for you, a change
by and by
But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
is an old friend. He says:
Whatever names you give me
I am a gush of silent water
a change for you.