The trees are lush green and two lovers are dancing in the rain
They are my friends, they wave at me
My foot is stuck in the mud
I am inside my room, by the window
I wave back
They move on, their arms sprawling
Around each other
I pull my fingers into a fist
I crack my knuckles
Open my book
And stare.
I could be anywhere
But there’s a piece of paper under my tongue
Perhaps it has tobacco traces
It’s so bitter
I take my sharp fingernails and scratch there
Violently
But it doesn’t come out
I try to swallow it but it doesn’t go down
Who cares.
It’s still raining but he hasn’t called me yet
He was supposed to tell me what to do
Why will I write about waiting again?
He calls me. I pick up. We listen to the rain, silent
We know what to do
And we do it!
Our lives and loves are scheduled and sorted
And maybe we join the two lovers from before
Even if the rain stops.
I put my finger inside my mouth (I assume I was laughing already, mouth agape)
The paper is still stuck like a tape, bitter, sinister
I cut off my tongue.
The paper slides down and sticks to my throat…
My giggles are frightening and contaminated
Everything’s still wrong.