book breaks like coffee breaks and ciggerate breaks

dense fog and mist encircle my books.
the birds chirp in an unruly fashion
outside in the air, like ecstatic stoners.
the pajamas and bed covers from last night
hang on the strings, blowing with the wind.
every little secret is opened and flung in the air
and they hover like helicopters, like interesting
faces and deep voices that some wait in corners
and hide in cafes to watch and listen to.