taste test...

he continued to range over my hand. tasting it. but that's a woollybear. appetite on feet. row upon row and clinging and cold. varnish head. gleam.

cold wind skirting skirting high the same bare elm. he was in the street beneath the lamp. corner to the red house. i was manacled by one hand. the other crooked with mail. how like a target. dark broken dark issuing dark. scooped with the arrested hand. maybe it was he liked warmth. only settled and the gleam a red-black rise over thumb horizon. crow's nest.

inside he was less sluggish. heat. he must have touched and tasted every surface of one hand. lively. i turned him out the door again.

just now finally shivers.