and water
& peaches
& sassafras growing in your backyard
& rose petals sprinkled on your breakfast cereal
& hiccups that didn’t stop you from laughing.
let’s say that you had dirt
& dew & mint tea
& your hot shower poured down on you like a waterfall
& your nightgown flowed like a ribbon dancer.
let’s say that your curtains turned sunlight into crimson,
your bed was a pool of rays
& your drawers were filled with scraps of paper
carrying thoughts home from restaurant tables
& subways.
let’s say that your pee jar was always half empty,
that your clothing was just dirty enough to carry sweet stenches
& your mug collection made a figure 8 which,
from a different angle, is basically ∞
let’s say that if you were to stare
at your unmade bed
long enough & squint really hard,
the folds of your blankets would magically form
the dancing shape of a helix.
let’s just say.