Maybe it was a cloud
In your eyes the sky became grey
Mine are mistaken
For it surely isn't a tear
The sky is blue
Your eyes shrink like blue jeans
My eyes ache
They have both dried out
Maybe it was a dream
Maybe my brain is tumble-dried and emptied
Faded and washed
Otherwise I would have never forgotten
Maybe I have a shell
A hard impenetrable beetle shell
Of outgrown clothes
A little child who can reach the ceiling....
Why can't I get myself into your blue jeans?