Tuesday, June 28, 2016

poem of the day June 28


I keep watching the indoor plants
outside for the summer
trying to think what they are thinking
Do they like the great outdoors?
Do they like real rain
the kind that gets you drenched
down to the soul?
Or are they suffering 
from strong sun winds
without the sunscreen protection of windows?
Are they afraid of wild plants
or are they friends with the fruit trees?
What do they think of birds that shit
on them as if they were just a piece of wood?
Do they hate me for the bugs
that eat them?
Or are they happy to be on vacation from
the loneliness of inside
trapped with no light but me?

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