where the blue-moon weed grows
something something went out for discount okonomiyaki and overpriced iced coffee and it was sweltering this morning. the sky bled a little bit earlier so everything’s glassy and yellow ‘round the edges now; mom’s taking a nap on the couch and the electric fan and i are best friends again.
our phones are so high tech these days that photos don’t really look like photos anymore: for anybody lucky enough to remember those kitschy sepia instagram filters circa 2014— i’m living it as we speak.
there’s something restless thrumming under my skin. picture a body inside of a body. like a set of matryoshka dolls, except the smallest one is glowing something blinding. curled up in fetal position and weeping a bit, kicking out at its seven-inch sandbox.
(you’ve got a ticket burning a hole in your pocket, so tell me where we go from here. didn’t you say anywhere would be fine? as long as you could connect people and come closer to understanding them, anywhere would have been fine.)
this time last year i wrote a poem about how hollow summer left me, so it’s crazy i have the opposite problem now. hah. i started this blog in february touting i’ve a lot to say but none of the right words to say it. another june come and i dunno that i’m any better than i was before.
all this light and nowhere to put it. all this light and i’m crumbling under the weight of it. ma, i wish i could hear you talk about what it takes to grow orchids one more time. i read somewhere they can be difficult to care for. don’t think about 'em too much was the advice, if i remember right. figures it’s something i’m terrible at.
(if i could make up the rest of the story, i’d want something short and sweet for the road: the flowers grow while you aren’t watching. they’re shy and slow to face the sun. the flowers grow when you aren’t looking, whether you will them to or not.)
on that note: my head aches. i’ve missed a session of exercise and will have to space out double sets to compensate for it later. my body officially checked out just past four-thirty and there are worse things in the world than going to bed early, but i’ll try to hold out a little longer. i’m convinced missing sunset saps the soul of its texture, or something.
012: all feeling for this one; fell asleep before i could post this yesterday.