Violet Hush Hush

Suppose you work hard. Well,
I would like to loan you my time:
curled around you like smoke
curls around a lip say, or a silver crayon
melts into the palm of your hand
in summer heat. That smoking tin man look
is catching on in Cobble Hill you say.
But really, is the silver an indicator
of anything but the limitations of fear
created with smoke? Violet shakers
move to amuse you with shopping
sprees and delicate leaf patterns
on bone china. I'm coming for you!
you say in one of those pipsqueak
voices that sounds more virtuous
than venomous in this economy
of needs. My list is long but I am checking
things off three at a time. There is so much
I'd like to tell you about. If only you were here
we'd make out in a cabin and you would
learn to like it.