for Rock
We have tiny quarrels,
around 1 or 2pm, when
the simmering clouds begin
to boil. I'll shift weight in my seat
while you go on about it all.
In the evenings we enjoy a fire
and our small company.
We'll tire of tea and find new
inspiration in the bottle,
everything becomes reflection,
revision-- the forgetfulness
of living.
Discussing the lamp shade,
first drafts of long
distance poetry,
where we're going to go.
I've spent so much time
with you today, you
who should have become
bothersome by now.
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