A stool, a stand, a butterfly-etched bell, a belt: 
A lightbulb changed, his connection 
Developed-discovered. The patio 
Blushes, her sleep scrutinized, her good green 
Gone grey, a well-behaved evening cashmere. 
The propriety of it? She, for one, hides her eyes. 
She counts to twenty. He won’t be able to find them. 

Picture it pleasant: breeze like the first 
Tang of strawberry, snapped weed like green beans. 
Semigloss latex of waxy 
Flower; bluegrass to snip 
And play two blades. Cattle grates over 
Dusty roads, access covers in sidewalks, a tic-tac-tac of heels, 

Cups, kettles, tinny radios and cookware 
In the corner’s lazy Susan. 
The half-percent milk: the calculus of Ingrid. 
Nails getting long scratch many splatters; 
Clipped, quit tickling at the keyboard. Peasant, an orange gone 
Squishy with age, a brunch they’re going on. Department stores, 
Many things, too many: clutter keeps her occupied. 

Feature greeting cards, circumlocutions 
For pangs lacking language; when writing absolute 
Addresses, it pays to be painfully precise, 
Only he can’t spell her name and she can’t his. 
The bluster of trumpets only fixes 
A broken bracelet with a safety pin.