itsoundsnatural

The first thing you said to me was sea gulls. i was happy about it.

when you talk you arent talking. i am beside you and youre not there.

there are cows in the yard, their hooves have made tubes, oil rig wells, in the wet ground. an airation paid for with groans.

the ice begins to come down with accuracy, my window a shudder of clicks and balances. i refuse myself to get out of bed and have well water fill me in the bathroom. it corners me in the shower and i rinse, dry, and pull clothes over my head. i go get a cup of coffee from my grandpa's house, attached to ours, and walk back through conversations to the wrap around porch. i sit and smoke and pet one of the barn cats. this ones named John Denvers Dead. my brothers kept it going after i flippantly coined it the spring before.
it fits.
and we all agree. it is doomed.