My desire to be in sync with him had nearly been my undoing.
In a future we believe in, these plants will all be ghosts.
We hung our posters at the drugstore, at the grocery, at city hall. I tacked up a 1970s Earth Day poster from my mother’s classroom. We tie-dyed shirts, and I bought everyone a plastic visor to paint.
There is a pure fear, in waking somewhere you have not lain down. She runs until her blisters bleed. Then, she runs some more.
We went. We did. We went to Dead Horse but couldn’t stay.
I am determined to praise my particular world, so I must praise you.
I can remove my hand the second it becomes too much for me.
Maybe he was preparing for a disaster that would never happen.
Let there not be stench. Let the itch inside my skin quiet. Let the smell of my body be the lushness of a green wetland.
I only divine the cat’s location when I hear its small cough.