rain and jam

Why do I keep?
There is a tingle in my right leg that makes my big toe into a bale of hay.
My eyes are closing up for the night, sweeping out the last of the customers
They are wanting to stay
And we want our legs back

things are leaping onto outside

Leaps into reflections of a roof

And I stand up to close the door.

My ship crashes through waves pushes my legs back to be stumbling,

Balance comes slowly more slowly than the couple below joined beneath an umbrella beneath falling marbles explosions at their feet.

Cold bones

I am keeping 

Warmth in the taste of words

A new book of old poetry

Freshly bought, tightly squeezed, making orange juice from Cummings and Elliot in my lips

They taste like rain and jam, thunder and a quilt, rain dropping and I feel you here too

Sometimes

Warming my cold fingers with words and fingerprints pressed against mine--

but I am alone in paper and Paris