An ambush in the glint of an eye,
Like a shell rattling its contents
When the wind hits,
The subject of the search
What the wind hits
With a rasp it whispers "I object."
"Come get me, I'm available," I thought you said,
"Tell me all your secrets, and see what happens to them
When I pay you attention."
How little you know about me, but nothing
I do surprises you, you accept it easier
Than a compliment, or an undiminished stare,
Then you speak the words that bind me
