I Look at Trees
I look at trees and think about their births.
I can say to myself by looking at a leaf, “You are an oak,”
or, “You are a Chinese Pistache.”
For this I feel proud, and this quirk is one that gives me a sense of joy that I think others would be impressed with
If I had any friends.
I like to wear socks, and have special categories of them:
the ones that have had their life – but I will wear them, still, on days I think I will get dirty out in the yard;
Then I have the ones who are new from this year – and have the thickest, whitest cotton and I think –
I love you white, soft socks. My feet love you.
I wash my hands a hundred times a day, and I wonder every time I wash my hands: Was there ever a time I didn’t do this? There was, but I can’t remember when.
I don’t like it when people drive fast in neighborhoods:
Watch out for squirrels in the roads
– or birds –
And what if a cat or dog runs out?
Be careful!
I go to bed clean – a bath every night.
I go to bed alone – every night.
I could be your best friend.
I could make you dinner.
We could play a game.
However, I realize now, I will die an old woman with many cats around me –
Lonely in my socks
Lonely, thinking about the trees.
CK Munsell © 05.23.2024 All rights reserved.