Orange Juice and a Wool Coat
Glasses were sweaty in July,
so I wouldn’t pick them up
Mom mixed the concentrate perfectly,
but I wouldn’t pick it up
Warm juice in a wet glass
doesn’t cooperate
with me
I remember you, grandpa
only by the scratchy wool
of your suit holding me
while I had chickenpox
It made me feel worse,
as if I never would know intimacy
But I think I will love you,
in Heaven
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