- There is just
no accounting
- for desire or
the way longing
- takes up with
your heart the way
- you find that
even a quart
- of milk a
week is still
- too much or
the way
- a bathrobe
hangs forgotten
- from a hook
for too long
- and must be
washed
- from dingy
neglect. No, no
- accounting
for the sigh
- that escapes
your lungs
- like a
heartbreak on the breeze
- after a good
soaking rain
- on Sunday
afternoon or the way
- the newspaper
is folded so neat
- at the foot
of the couch
- or the way
the throw pillows
- are never
thrown.
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