“Are you mad at me?” No.
“Well, do you blame me?” I hadn’t really considered
fault.
cumulous clouds loomed over a building
                                                    with­ a roof
                                                          like a staircase

the steps rose north, a garden placed south. It was a sunny day at first.
You gathered a pack and I met you on the corner. We walked
                       to Summit Rock. Heels in the ground and ooze
on the outer soles of shoe. Soggy soil,
our elbows linked and you held on to a flimsy branch.
                         How did we not go falling right there?

I mispronounced in the aim of humor,
which was the only reason
anything was funny at all. Yellow powder
stained curious noses and it all felt like what you have heard for so long.
“I know you aren’t fond of this”
this is what it looks like when the storm dies.
How long does it take you to realize
you’ve been sitting
in silence
the whole time?

I wondered how I looked from the window of the sixth floor
Ebullient gestures
felt like mockery where the joke once stood. No one is looking
at you.
Finally, forfend the intransigence you call will and find yourself
with an empty mind. Do you not want to know where this goes?

As it pertains to the clouds, there has never been a clear day.
I was on the opposite

side of the street when I noticed this
tree
          and saw you.
There was a raindrop, two, then many. Soil dry doesn’t take water
well.
Cotton collects and I was close to home.
I wasn’t expecting this, no, not this
at all.