Plaid On Plaid

It is chest pain, asleep-in-your-boots and dreaming. It arrives inevitable after things like cradle-rocking and long tracks of small tea-colored buttons. Everything is an opaque "remembrance of," "rug burn," and "plaid-on-plaid." Oh it felt like fall this morning as rain swept across the hearts of the trees! If only to come up bearing a mussel, I believe I would dive deep, for "This mussel like my lung is open in air." I am feeble and blue beneath your searching light, we both were wool-palmed and bowed. Wrap me in your hands for I am cold open your mouth for I am not always so quiet as this I will lisp somethings your way and go on wet walks