It's a gray day.
Won't you sit down with me and have a cup
of something hot?
I'd tell you to hold your tongue if
you didn't have such a good grip on it already.
No, that's not my heart rumbling
in hunger for you
No, that's just the thunder.
Won't you sit with me and tell me tales
of things I'm not?
Never mind, just hush.
Try not to slip off that horsehair couch;
I know it's tempting
to let yourself fall.
But keep your eyes locked
and your tongue on something hot
and watch the sky rage.

It's a soft day.
Won't you sit with me and have a cup
of things I forgot
to say?