Don't Let the Next Time I Buy You Flowers be For Your Funeral

Filthy times

I don't know

shapeshifting to a new point of view.

Shapeshifting as I work the filthy land.

Letting the dirt clog up my nails. Letting the wet earth

fill up my nostrils.

A field of hydrangeas. Sparrows in the air.

I've been wandering through these times

for way too long. I've told people my truths.

I've wondered about the holes in my hands.

I've built stairs to nowhere.

Sitting on a tire swing. Drinking some lemonade.

Waiting. Perpetually waiting for the seasons to change.

Straw hat and a big gold buckle on my belt. I hear

something in the lake. I'm not sure I want to get closer.

Part II

My teeth sting and my forehead burns. It's hot outside.

The sun beats down on my shoulders. I have a tan line.

My skin is contrasting shades of white, tan, and sunburnt.

I could sleep in the grass. Maybe carry around a pail

of ice water. Goats. Sheep. Cows. They all come to me.

I wanted to tell her the truth. I wanted her to know

there was more to me. I think she was satisfied

to go another direction.

Here I am. Wondering. I have many paths before me:

which dirt road to travel, which sun-kissed nightmare

to face. I could plant a field of strawberry bushes.

Maybe sell bags of pick-your-own-fruit. I have many apple trees.

She used to like red apples. I've been waiting

for the harvest. I sit on a tractor. Smell the diesel fuel.

I'm not a fan of the way the pumpkin patch smells in fall.

But they're always a big seller.

Part III

It's been a long time since I've gone into the city.

I don't find it all that fun. It just seems like a whole bunch

of cheap thrills. People going about their business

in whatever direction they feel is right.

I'd prefer to be home. On my land. Sitting

in my cabin reading old books passed down to me.

I have urns with my parents' ashes. It's been decades

since I've seen my parents in the flesh. I have a gold ring

from them. They melted down their high school class rings.

That gold was also my mom's melted down gold teeth.

I wear that ring. It's my family ring. I wanted her to have it.

But she wanted something to do with city folk.

She wanted to wear fancy clothes. Walk down boulevards.

Go to symphonies.

Eat expensive meals.

She wanted skyscrapers and subways.

I think she made a big mistake. You don't think right

when you're in the city. There are too many distractions.

When you're out in the woods

you can see yourself for who you really are.

You can see your flaws

and how those flaws hold you together

like stitches.

Part IV

It's better to sit up on my roof. Drink from a flask.

Wait for the sun to set. Watch the sky turn from blue

to orange to red. Climb down my ladder.

Make sure all the fences are locked.

Drink a little more milk. And sweep up the floors.

Find my bed. Sleep under a quilt passed down to me.

Sleep until the rooster crows.

You can trust the rooster to always sing his song.

It's his job to wake us all up. You're not living

if you can't hear the rooster crow.

You're underwater and dreamin'.

Wouldn't it be nice to come out of your dream

for just a little while to see

what this planet really has to offer?

Part V

It's been a long time. A really long time.

By the time I see her again, my beard will be gray.

I'll likely have a new companion. I'll have a hump 'n my back.

The shine in my eyes won't be the same. I hope to see her again.

I hope I don't have to wait until we're both gray or dead.

Don't make the last time I see you be your funeral.

I don't want to drive all the way to New York City

just to find you.

I don't want the next flowers I buy

to be your funeral flowers.

So please, take care of yourself.