You wake up in the morning. and fall out of your bed. mean cats eat parakeets. and this one's nearly dead.. You dearly wish the wind would shift. and greasy window slide. open for the parakeet. who's colored bitter lime.. Open the window. and lift into your dreams. lately baby. you can barely breathe.. A broken wrist. an accident. you know that something's wrong. you fold the leavings of your past. no one knows you've gone.. The sunspot flares of the early. nineties light up your wings.. And scan the shortwave radio. it's tracking outer rings.. The techtonic dispatcher shifts. to smooth the ocean floor. and flattens out to warmer winds. of Brisbane's sunny shore.. Where Buddhas tend to mending wrists. a tea made from the leaves. of eucalyptus fragrances. and coriander seeds.. You wake up in the morning. to warm Pacific breeze. where mean cats chew licorice. and cannot climb the trees.. Open your window. and lift into a dream. baby baby. baby starts to breathe.