Monday March 14, 2016
Common Ground Magazine
We are lying on the hard wood floors we’re afraid to ruin. You run your hand along the outline of one square and then another. You grab my fingers and trace them along the spot you just were. You say
Do you feel that?
Yeah I feel that.
The little nail pokes through and keeps getting caught in my socks and ripping them just a little. I watch your face change shape as you continue to drag your soft fingertips across the ground, searching for imperfections, thinking about preventative measures. I move my head into your lap and I close my eyes. You say
We will probably have to pay for these god forsaken floors.
I know that. We aren’t very good at protecting them.
Maybe because we care about real things like Orcas and braiding sweet grass into tiny nests.