nothing has changed
in years
at least not when i look
out the window and see
the same sunsets
i've been seeing every
night when i don't want
to be inside.

there are people
who were born looking
like poetry
pink toenails
swaying to some
soft song.

there are people
who were born looking
like music
hair flowing
feet dancing to some
wild jig.

there are people
who were born looking
like a painting
their skin
harmonizing to every
untamed color.

and then there are people
who were born looking
like trees
standing straight and tall
unbending
in the wind.

looking like trees
and feeling like
tumbleweeds
born to love and
leave before the
desert storm.

blowing their way
through life.

people looking like trees
and feeling like
tumbleweeds
tumbleweeds like me.

my cracked
toenails growing down
into the floor and twisting
for something to hold onto
my hair growing upwards
through the roof and
towards the late
afternoon sun
and my skin slowly separating
into layers of bark.

every
fiber
screaming
run.

a tumbleweed
born and formed
into a tree
no longer a sapling
too late to leave
too early to die.

go home all of you
and i'll be happy
alone in the dark
the only place where a
tree can truly be
a tumbleweed.