My guts displayed in cursive spectacle

On lined pages your eyes never gaze

Longing unraveled in a spiral notebook

Covered with two hummingbirds your fingers never trace

They fight or dance, depending on your view

Maybe one is an angel and the other a demon

& they can’t decide on dinner

One wants Japanese and the other French

Or maybe one is lost and asks the other for directions

Only to go the wrong way again

Really, they’re just drawings printed on cardboard

Guarding 20 unsent letters addressed to you