foggy Soma . 240314 ... Soma I came back from Grand Isle and porcelain oceans. The windows were not foggy like the ones I wrote on that first night. My lacy, oily fingertips sang rhythms on raindrops dripping down the backseat window. I missed you even then. Vast, lucid wind - - I played with minutes I could never stop from running out into the seas At midnight in March. 240314 what's it to you? who go blather from