recently

like a man in bed with

maybe a cold speaks up 

when the thermostat falters, 

eventually, he'll have to

do something about it. 

i know, i am that man, just

laying here, just breathing 

in the snow, the golden glow

of every piece 

of every known love. i went

to her house when I was ten

or so. I didn't really ever see

her again. I didn't know that 

love was something more than

feelings. she called me. in 

the morning. she wanted to 

talk. i was 

in the basement. nine years old. 

i held back the urge to 

ask her why, like, 

"is this about an assignment?"

but even then 

i was savvy enough to reign 

it in. still full of wonder that she

called in the morning, though. 

"hey doug," she said. me: "who?"
she called in the morning 

in her yellow sweater and her

lacy black 

don't-tell-me-what    I have, 

uh, already discovered. this isn't

a graveyard, or no seminar. 

i've caved in less than ever 

recently; a new era begins.