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Fog welcomes morning by misting spitty kisses –
Shitty feelings: Goodbye, hello, goodbye again. Again,
My morning brew holds bitterness like a sponge.  

What remains after the wedding-cake but this?
A sacrament of marriage wrapped tightly
And set aside.  Their contract, frozen in cellophane.

Two people move slowly under my magnifying glass
At the speed of thawing ants, dumber than bags of grain.
Cutting across fields with the sharpness of a scythe,

They make home, mate for reproduction, and change
The landscape.  I take notes because they must love each other:
Lovers fold themselves down a dotted line. Overhead,

Rain begins to fall.  Thick nimbus clouds appear in flocks of char.
The couple hides under a big-bellied whitecrane.  Now,
With nobody and nothing to watch, I walk alone

By cornfield-yellow houses glowing pale across the lane,
And a fogged vision takes me by the heart to a flat place
Where one long slim balloon of lowlight holds me like a stain.

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