Autobiography to a Talkative Person

You touch scanty. Oh you said me
walking behind in sound and wet

grass from drizzle. Look. I'll swab your soft
ear bent at my I'm you and surface

severed from voice instrument. Yes I'm her
has been surmised. Walked

thirty-two minutes in shoes to get here.
Confusing clatter the tone just bare and vast.

We could pour out tonight our swallowed and just
allow noise pounce. Could stand

a middle bridge and torch the mighty
syllables on either side.