That Kind of Day

but had we seen on your first day, vested in
kind of midwestern winds that shift burden
blankets regions of the hearts and minds
it is a typical season, your low pressure
unresolved into horizons of panic
like foretelling a dry speaking meteorology
to stubborn out on living situations
with your rabbi long forgotten messageless
it is the task of the new proprietors to make
smears of the once loved mother figures
bearded in print to retable the cool kids
it is not what you can do, it is what is easy
in the coffeeless clatches of oven prides
written off faces of bubbles as they shrink