i woke up this morning with the taste of the first few days of fall in my mouth. but it's not fall and not spring really and i knew, as one knows these things, that being in love had settled on me in my sleep and would not lift maybe ever but certainly not until after breakfast. there was no sun this morning, but i lay in the grey light in all that calm, wondering if it wasn't better to have the boy so far away because i think such a feeling might be impossible to manifest, and if he were here i would be compelled to convey the taste in my mouth as evidence of great love, and how can you do that without opening your mouth, saying here, here is my love for you i can taste it and it is new weather grey light and pine breeze voice in a forgotten painting