Stitched with rough twine into my heart pounding like celebratory tympani with the needle pushed deep into the red.
I am a teardrop in held space by enchanted hands
She is a tidal wave sunning her breasts in a lawn chair on my asphalt
Smiling through my walls, my armor, my apprehension
Leaving no question unasked
I never asked her to stay, I simply grabbed her ankle
and pulled her in the window
I never gave her a choice. I never had a choice.
I pressed my half of the moon into her forehead and she made me her secret weapon, curled like a charm around her wrist.
The dog got out again. It was a black and white streak through a festival of flying chickens.
The theme that keeps coming around is simplicity. I am discovering that my needs are few.
On second thought, I may have that all wrong. Maybe it’s not simplicity, but complication. I already have so much I don’t need anything else, there’s nothing I want.
Not at the moment anyway, I’m sure something will come up.
And when it does, I will ask, how much do I want it, do I need it, where will I keep it, will it require maintenance?
In the end I will decide having something takes more energy than not having something.
The palms are shedding again, I wish there were less palms. They’re a full time job. Palms are for people who can hire grounds keepers. The rest of us are doomed to sink under the weight of constant palm fronds.
Ivy is cleaning the kitchen again. The dishes are her palm trees. That and the laundry, the two of us generate three loads of laundry every day.
It’s a mystery, we can’t figure out how that’s even possible.
I follow the dog around the neighbors house. Whenever I get close he laughs and spins and flies off over the trees in pursuit of chickens.
I give up. Let him run until he’s tired and hungry and hope for his sake he remembers how to get home.
And then she appears, smiling, she says, “Hey Boo”
And he stops, as simple as that, he walks to me and slips his head into his collar.
We are the same, he and I, we will do anything for her.