I have no idea what does or does not grow in those sorry patches once full of hope, the ones I checked on everyday, waiting for the first bit of green to push its way out of the earth as if to prove something about my worthiness my optimism, even in the face of all that other decay I don't believe he ever took a look, kept his face pointed the other way sure of disappointment but like a kid who can barely wait for Christmas he waited for a garden that pops up all in one day, along with a woman that transforms over night, not the one he went to sleep with but someone so much better I've always had the hope that in my absence my gardens flourished, even went crazy with green and vines and fruits and flowers, so many flowers and even with the next one coming behind me and bashing the crap out of everything that sprouted, that's okay I imagined always the following year and and the one after that in the event she was still there, the blooms coming back in spite of all her efforts to **** them and if flowers could talk? what else could they say but, Lady, give up- she will never go away