And there came to us, after a short while,
Flashes of light. Drastic episodes of
Tumult lain drunkenly against the
Upside-down heavy clouds.
Froth filled evening gowns swish
And sway in February skies.
And we ran, over melodic puddles
Towards the shelter at the end
Of Frost’s field.
They come around when we lay on the
Dry ground. When we rotate lives
In lines two by two. Captivated by the sheer
Silliness of it all. It all rings so false
To me now. It all seems so sordid. No. Trite.
Ah, there is that wry smile that I love so much.
The way it carves steep valleys against
the simple curve of your lips.
The trembling “M”‘s that unveil the
Confidence hiding shame.
False. And trite, even more so now that
The storm has revealed to us your nature.
But you know that on some level
I’m teasing you. Perfectly unwilling to
Ever leave you, especially
In all this rain.