4905. DARLING KILCAVE

DARLING KILCAVE

I'd like to say I knew the moment when the

morning closed for lunch, but I do not. And

now  -  quite alone  -  the iceman is walking

up the stoop with his ice-tongs in his hands.

He seeks something I never use: water, in another

of its myriad forms. We own the sky by seeding

clouds like we own the night by seeding dreams.

Or, even if all that is the other way around, we share

nice thoughts no matter. Lining the world is a quilt

of passion  -  or so I've found. It keeps me warm 

enough and lets me keep my moments. I want

not for much else, if truth be told. But

only if truth be told.