Monday August 15, 2016
Oct 2016 issue
She’s oblivious. Floating above herself, she brushes a fruit fly from her peripheral vision. She’s oblivious. There’s a level of trust between her and him, but not enough to allow her to land. A monarch traces maps on the air, blue sky, blue blue sky. I want to show her how to weave a basket to carry her worries. I want to make other plans. I want to learn guitar and write a song and play it over and over until she believes that I really do love her. She’s oblivious. She puts on lip balm for the hundredth time. She looks at me. She smiles with her eyes, but not her lips. He sees and kisses the tip of her nose. I turn away.