Winter Pastoral

My fingers were stuck in her hair again.
We had been crying over a bad movie,
and the guy was still working on the furnace.
Every blanket in the house was around us.

We had been crying over a bad movie
and laughing at ourselves crying.
Every blanket in the house was around us,
but we were looking at our breath

and laughing at ourselves crying.
I had something to say, I remember,
but we were looking at our breath
so it wasn’t important just then.

I had something to say, I remember,
probably just something about the cold,
so it wasn’t important just then.
It was important that it wasn’t.

Probably just something about the cold,
but the television wasn’t working right.
It was important that it wasn’t.
The people looked older, but happier.

But the television wasn’t working right.
Everything was in black and white,
the people looked older, but happier,
color coming back in rushes, indiscriminately.

Everything was in black and white,
Her cheeks went red while speaking:
color coming back in rushes, indiscriminately
and leaving just as soon.

Her cheeks went red while speaking,
while entering warm rooms
and leaving just as soon.
She had usually forgotten something.

While entering warm rooms
my ears rang and teeth ached.
She had usually forgotten something,
and it was always nothing really.

My ears rang and teeth ached,
my fingers were stuck in her hair again
and it was always nothing really,
and the guy was still working on the furnace.