Sometimes
when you look at me
and think that I don’t care,
when it seems
that I don’t hear
or I don’t listen-

the words I need
are on a string,
they float away
like a green balloon;
they disappear
like the road at night,
like rabbits in the snow-

sometimes
when you look at me,
you think that I don’t care,
and if I were you,
I guess I’d think that, too-

but if it seems
like I’m not listening,
and it looks like I don’t care,
sometimes what you see
is me
when I don’t know
what to do.

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