Glazy rain snakes, are you lost,
wending in tandem on the pane's cheek?

You avoid my finger as I trace
your lacing knits of past and future.

I'm newly home from the pine bar,
curdled litany of flirtations

shed like a salted witch's skin.
I don't know why I do it to myself,

but the curiosity rises in me every time.
O rain, breaking and beading

on the glass lip, on the night loop,
I'm holding out my empty hand

to you, a midnight plea in hush:
teach me your way of cutting cloud

& slipping to streak an autumn eve
until you find that smiling smear

who tastes you just for fun?
The moon is shapeless tonight,

& all their eyes are locked in wax;
I'm impatient to make coffee for two.