You are None Less, I am Prone to Blur.
for K.S.

You shush about that very creamy room. Never
Spackled a day in your life. Have you?
You rigid yourself to fit the window frame.
You pretend to have no arms.
You should jump in, stop me if I am unkind.
I barely know you enough. After some twenty years!
If your life could take place in the twilit south.
Many there might fancy your clip-clopping way.
You’d mauve every so slightly in the moist sun
and find a radio station just the right speed
for thinking. Do you prefer an era of music
to the others? I hope a slender pace would enliven you,
not leave you more fatigued. Stop trying to read maps.
Regionalism is an amorphous spatiality. Just think
what a dry heat might have done to you!
It is not without concern that I steer you
this way from the rust belt.