Spring Wind.

Today the wind blew through my minute hair and caressed my skin: a sometimes lover as I lay on my back on top of the blue and red checked quilt and the sun bathed my skin with rainbows.

Soft grass curves over my bare feet.  I push motherhood and sweatpants up over my knees and stare blankly at chipped, red, nail polish.

I imagine I am wrapping my hair in a bun around my crown and sticking it with chop-sticks and Chinese umbrellas and sipping a martini as though I enjoyed the taste.

My shopping bag drags under my bare elbow.  It chants and pats my hip bones

Quer-swish.  Quer-swish.

Canada Geese on the man-made pond [meant to hold residue from our parking lots]: there are already reeds there.  They grow through the cracks in the asphalt.

I skim my flip-flops from the men's section over rubble and concrete and suburban wasteland and littered McDonalds cups and wasted piercings and beer bottles: Crushed.

The sky is high and the sun fierce.  I pad through the trail in the bit of woods we left behind.  We left it when we built our townhouses.