I know I wouldn’t choose a grape off of your vine.
I’ll just taste the wine.
Grass-colored jeans, on the bend at your knees.
Denim chemistry.

I will try to repair no more.

An eyeful of apple. My ocular mouth full.
Instant memory.
More steadily you climb mountains and state lines.
Searching endlessly.

I will try to repair no more.
Reach for the sky with sun in your eyes, love.

My feet sway in rhythm with the stillness of Winter.