oh, fine -
I'll open the curtains
it's been two days, maybe three
the hedgebush was sneaking up on me
no one wants an everyday jumpscare
from the innocuous and unchanged
and anyway
it's a lot of work to pull a curtain
sometimes
luckily, my quarantine adoptee is a pothos:
a plant fit to care for depressives
aren't we a pair
so - fine, then
I did it
you'd think the sky would
reward me
for this achievement
but NO
there is only the glowing
grey blanket of midwinter
I would compare it to the color of the compacted snow
where the mailman walks across the yard, but I see
that the trench from his footpath is brightened
and powdered
I wasn't aware it had snowed
anyway who cares
okay, FINE -
I'll say the sky is like
the shade of the silver car next to me
the one owned leased or borrowed by
the woman two parking spaces away
in the lot at the park where we both
look at our laps instead
of the flat white disc ahead of us
what's in her lap, I wonder
a book? a pen?
a lucky nickel dusting up lottery tickets?
I don't judge
her window is open and I'm over here
wasting my gas on heat
I bet she's not bored or depressed
I bet she's just on her lunch break
a familiar rush catches my ear
an airplane takes off nearby
seemingly vertical and pasted on the sky
it too is grey and I begin to slip, to think:
this life is a panchromatic set piece
so I look forward to make sure
this placid coin, this pale expanse
(fine, yes, a lake)
still exists, and there
- what
between the twigs and the trunks
- what moves
yellow
- against the unyielding white?
why, it is
an untethered
panting
dog
and I've been brought here to wonder
how long it's been
since I scribbled on a steering wheel
how long it's been
since "one more line"
"no, one more line"
it's time -
I buckle my seat belt
I shift gears to leave
and I wait for the silver woman
as she backs up behind me
and pulls away first