they tumble away from you like an unfinished word, the last few letters slipping down the valley w
the period stopping their fall, but they end up all a-jumble at the bottom of the bowl.
c l o u d s h a n g i n t h e s k y, parked like aircraft waiting to land, bringing all those memories (your mother on the motorcycle, your cousin in pig heaven, your grandmother’s mustache) laughter like tears (and rain.)
tilts away from you
blue blue blue blue blue blue blu bl b (the variations too numerous to name
or blame for the melancholy of your letter-writing.)