Window

J says the task is lovely,

but no one's come in yet

thru the window;

G just leaves out the door.

According to J, 

there's no wine 

but a low-class red

As it rattles in the fridge, 

I know

G cares about the 

broken light inside. I glance over and

J says, I think 

I'd like to be 

one of the flying ones