lonesome, the man chops his vegetables
mushrooms
cherry tomatoes
capsican
spinach leaves
...zucchini
she sleeps, he wanders
she hears his footsteps
hoping they lead and stop at her open door
but he wanders the halls
poking his head into an empty room
here and there
pondering all the previous owners
how many people lived here?
how many people grew up here?
how many memories
good and bad
guided people's lives
formed here, in this room
will this memory mean anything?
will it guide and form anything
make anything
of the life ahead of me?
a happy kind of loneliness
he sits at the open window
eating his pizza
watching a plant take the sun
surrounded by weeds
as though they were groupies
hangers-on
the plant grows, quietly
silently
slowly
he sees himself
growing like a plant
the plant takes the shit
endures the cold rain and hail and summer storms
it lingers in the background
as the beer-garden party
laugh and hug and kiss hello and goodbye
the plant feeds of the earth's nature
it survives
his pizza is good
he can taste it
he wonders if it's too soon for a beer
last night was a big one
she sleeps somewhere between a nap and doze
her laziness is addictive
her warmth is contagious
she only smiles like that
when she sleeps
her sleepy smile
he wonders if he has one
he wants to be a sexy-sleeper
the plant never wakes up
it never sleeps
it just grows, moving with the wind like its music
the plant is always stoned
always high
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