it’s not fresh dirt.
you know the kind you can smell when you dig your fingers deep into it. it’s perfect for planting seeds that expand and swell. the richness stays in your nails for days and you forget all the rust and decay.
it’s almost hospital curtains.
an opaque beige that blocks out the sun and shudders softly on wind stricken days. it soaks up the smell of grief and illness and late night revels in white gowns and frayed hair.
it’s actually a 1989 Toyota Tercel.
a wound up trinket in a junkyard. ready for the metal drain. it overheats in the summer and freezes over in the winter. it’s seen 10 more lives than intended. it can’t go on another day.
I think we’ve witnessed a cycle
and that’s just lifes’ way.