A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
Can you follow this? I run to the river, bright gushing, receeding on banks delivering smallest offspring, fuzzy. They follow mother, but you don't follow me to the bench in mellow sun. Patient. I must be patient. They leave on a stream, paddle soft, obedient, glide unlike me, awkward straining to see what's so important that you can't come to this trough, drink in images I hoped you'd see, that we could share together. Trees hang low on this path. You follow now, paces behind. I point to this or that. I've been wondering, what if you stopped noticing me. I'm not small, fuzzy, gliding but sinking in muck sucking my shoes to shore. Can't get close enough to capture one image satisfactory enough for you, for ‘Ah, that's nice.' You know the sun fades. Air chills early in spring. No jacket, you turn back at earliest dusk when molecules somehow absorb twilight-soothing-aura. Who can I choose to share tiny little moments, not as important as messages with tiny images’ gleam on a palmed instrument? I think it's time to go home. I want to be alone, not to look at distraction, but hide in reeds from a world that needs undivided attention. Dishes, laundry, clean bathroom and ready to mow the lawn all summer long, without you on the stoop, gazing inward. You don't see me sweat without someone to know my devotion and need of return. 10.12.23 |