walk me home in the fog

i pressed my bare feet
to the surface of a blushing window--
the back seat of my mother's 
blue station wagon-- shy in another
cloud escaped from above the foreheads
of telephone polls--
we broke the bags of tea leaves
like rhapsody-- like the blizzard 
that elected to fall as rain--
Winter found herself too heavy to
pretend to be another crystal--
too heavy to pretend she didn't want
to kiss you through a milky window--
there wasn't enough ash from the coal
to pinch into diamonds-- 
so we forgot about the snow
--tilled the field with 
an ice cream scoop and freckles
of loose tea-- 
we had remembered January as the pale
tip of a creamer-- but January 
has the type of memory 
only left by foot prints in the mud--
the grass soaking into a bubbling
ladle of soil-- we re-learned
how to walk on water-- 
when we were little 
and charmed star fish on a beach
it had been so easy--
but now if i want to feel myself
vanishing i have to think
of you and tying a piece of
yarn to m collar to walk to
the belly of a mug--
have i told you i was to 
to sleep with you like chamomile?-- 
i've wanted to be held the
way you hold a palm of chai--
warm as the mud bubbling
into a cauldron of soup--
share a spoon-ful on the porch 
steps with me and watch the clouds
tip-toe down from telephone wires--
scatter tea leaves like wedding rice--
we're watching the fog fall 
irrevocably in love with 
breath entering the cold--
with steam from a tangled 
braid of pasta-- and the broken
body of a tea bag--
we used the leaves to 
plant strawberries
in the yard-- swam
to the surface of the mud--
harvest with ice cream scoops--
when i say i'm falling for you
i mean i'm falling for you
like clouds who get lost 
and find themselves
ringing door bells on Main Street--
like the mute of a street light
that makes diamond of the rain--
i was too heavy to be a blizzard
so i fell as rain so that we could
grow strawberries
in the winter-- make jam the
soup-spoons and our foot prints--
i don't mind being remembered in a stamp
of mud--   
i want to kiss you across a clouded
window of a backseat
where i've watched the 
sky
crawl back into bed--
shhhh--
quiet like chamomile--
turn off the street lights
so the rain can sleep
and repeat the vows
exchanged by the clouds 
and the air.