For Another in the Key of G

It’s not there in a book

It’s not here in the atmosphere

It’s beyond the window facing the other way

It’s not the shadow of his proud girth against the door

It’s portable in me rinsed by overdue tears

It’s that you love me in my recollection and now

It’s plain enough whittling homemade atmosphere

It’s gorgonzola whether we can afford it or not

It’s not time to have a talk it’s only raining

It’s marbled inference clamming up instead

It’s morphed embodiment it’s that many steps for the accident

It’s no longer May it’s raining monsoon unhappiness 

It’s the immodest brood to prove yourself dutiful

It’s heterosexual sleight of hand it’s only morning

It’s an hypothesis you need not be afraid of

It’s a slam not poetry especially

It’s the cliched color of the rainbow not the true rainbow

It’s the double helix engineered by supposition

It’s mincemeat in tandem with the prolonged and sturdy tree

It’s the screen saver you think your savior if you just freeze frame its familiarity