when life gets mad at me, I kiss him on the cheek
and tell him how beautiful he is when he smiles
I tell him sometimes he needs to count down from 10
because anxiety gets all of us,
he’s nothing special
I read him stories, and recite him Grilfindol and Alphrondage
and  I tell him everything my mom told me
and some of what my dad told me
sometimes he hides
and I have to run after him until my legs are jelly
he never stays mad for long

i want you to take an honest juicy bite out of me
and taste me like the dry grass tastes the first drop of rain
take a breath and find your own way around my body
just to show me that you can
put a flower in my hair and then tell me I look prettier without it
but don’t tell me I look pretty at all
and never stop telling me
show yourself at night and howl to me like the moon
and feed on me
not because you need to
but because you like the taste

If I could talk to earth
I would buy her a drink, and woo her in a stream where just maybe
she’d open up to me the chambers of her house
and let me take a look around
I would chase her through the jungle-wood and spanish moss
And I’d even let her chase me back
Maybe most importantly of all I would tell her I’m sorry under one of her honest apple trees
Because I didn’t mean for her to get sick
I’d lure her with me,
skipping
with my tickled mind and pocket of questions
And we could go ride a wave,
somewhere good