You and me, we used to talk
Like a river underground, the sewer where we used to walk.
The hole at the end empties out to the pier
Where paperboats disappear
Me, I try to send this note,
Float it like a paper boat,
But paper sinks and words are weak.
I try but I don't speak
Join together in the silent snow
Turn our faces up to see
Not endless night, but day
And you and me, talking.
(This is Grace's poem from Joan of Arcadia.