Slight Desperation, It Matches My Eyes

the flattened grass under the rain, I loved that
today. I was trampled in the thought of last
evening, dour greyness taking us back. the
southern accents of our friends laugh along. the
river as a place that will ride us back. take me,
choose a story. the fret masses a port, laxity is
a poem. poems are dratted things, casual in sure
ways. dart back as clock. the talk cheapens into
this twist and what a rain tonight. the force of
water is incremental and timeless. forgetfulness
matches my climate. under these stresses, so much
gets accomplished. can we stare at a lonesome
candle and still love each other? of course we
can. the phone call will get thru.