www.bluetyger.ca
On Sunday Morning

- William J. Gibson -


I knew a song once about crocodiles
You used to hum it on your bike
 
When you were ten and told me
about it one morning in bed
 
Your eyes were blue and I tried
to see you as a little girl who cried
 
But all I saw was the hot burn of your lips
the tossed gold of your hair
and the black ice
under your eyelashes