These sugar cube folk , cowering at the thought of rain .. I've repartee for every hailstone a storm cloud might contain* ...

When vague
Unsatiated
Lusts
Float across
Flush pink eyelids
Closed
Against harsh
November sun

I open to note
A burnt orange leaf
Leaving its branch

In flight unknowing
Where
When
To land

You have a cute southern drawl
she said.

You are not brilliant but I like your ***
was the best  I could offer.

You from Mississippi?
No, southern Iowa.

Not much difference in men
all weighed and measured;

this, we both
understood.