perfectly pursed

My feet are cold with neglect
to wear the right shoes
in the rain,
but i remember to put a red pill in my mouth
though it produces no effect, no positive or negative value judgement.
So I hear there is a world orchid conference, yeah?
And I can only imagine a room full of flowers and snobbery sneezing over beautiful things
and wasting precious breath and mucous.
I get drunk because I like liking pop music. I get anxious for how many things exist that I can't see --
a basement, a room with a door locked, the shores smashed with swishy waves on the Kenai Peninsula.

Then I walk home, book under arm, looking at all the things the rain touches
a misty shell around parts of my skin exposed, drops seem suspended on my clothes
i need time to cook rice, to take a nap, to be one of the 3am tiptoers easing into the later
and later.
because i've exhausted cyberspace, words that start with P, possibilities for harmony
and the excess cakes thicker.