Tea bag toe tag

On a summer day
on a powder dry pillow,
on an easy concubine of an afternoon,
might be the weather,
might be the fine golden gauze of hair
on the arm of the green enamel chair
(please refrain from thinking there).

The soggy grocer's underwear dawn has stayed away.
All the sinews and entrails of the world
are in concordance,
and not a strident basement drill press note
can pierce it.

It's too nice for abstraction
too sweet for graveyard berries
too kind for napping
not a varicose vein in the sky!

A lop-sided grin in lieu of wit
today will do.