Fifty-two.

I think that I should start building things
for you. A collection of letters,
a cabin in the woods. Just because
you write it down doesn't mean it's true,
but it sure doesn't hurt to try. Sometimes
I wake up with finches in my hair,
sometimes I wake up and they are snakes instead.
It doesn't really matter, tangles are tangles, and
I don't have the right sort of dreams about you.