top palate 

Emptied apartment,
I sit here with a newly lit cigarette
And a glass of iceless lemonade
Looking at the day rain
Down some gray
As the Cancer Lodge across the street
Gets larger and larger
As the weeks and days
Fold into cubes.

Yet,
I have my baby back.

My electronic keys of patronage
Here turning it's screened head towards
My face like a dandelion reaching for another 
Ounce of sunlight
To take care of the petals so light.

Sitting on a moment or more
As the keys come back to me and the sounds

Of 
About
Come like no other taste

On my tongue

Resting just so on

My top palate.