When the valley climate shows up at your door with 3 long-stemmed roses so you wear a skirt walking onto the front porch even though you've had the beginnings of a cold --
When you find you've tried to leave this city before, but only in the times you've spent at home on Saturday nights alone.
There is a string of pearls inside of you saying "don't leave the couch" also "I told you so"
gently, by a fire that has been a week dead now, I think about a chapbook in WingDings, and my own soft art of being here right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment