When I’m with you something happens to the sky:
two birds appear, they carry straws to build a nest
and clouds collide above us, the horizon is fading.
Earth is not a solid truth, not our ground no more,
a shadow, always a good place to hide, now flies,
no longer gives me shelter. Words surround us
in songs that come from passing cars, and the names of books
are sequels to our talk. You say there is a sign in all of this.
When I’m with you I know their meaning.