I was born at right angles to the earth
your houses are inscrutable
I stand on the shores of my heart
perched like aliens in a spaceship
who think mirrors are photographs of someone else.
My lips are bitter-tainted
from eating discarded fruits
I need someone to see my hands
waiting like constellations
and grab them through the clouds
to see that this universe is made of stories
so I can finally stand up
and live parallel.