when there is nothing to think about, think about trees
There's this tree I see every day at school, or maybe it's two trees, and that's the thing, because all I want to know right now is if that tree is one tree that's grown apart or two trees grown together.
Yesterday I chalked "Fear does not stop death / it stops life" (not my quote) on a (different) tree; I would never do anything to a tree I wouldn't do to a person I loved and trusted with my life. Afterward I ran my fingers over the surprising roughness of its grayish-white bark. A monitor came over and asked what I was doing to that tree and I said I wasn't doing anything and he stood and watched me touching it for a little bit. Then he said, "Someone's been leaving their sayings in this tree." In my other hand was the piece of chalk. I feigned surprise. "What does that say?" "Something about fear."
Afterward, watching shiny blueblackbirds like bruises without skin, pecking in the grass. Their eyes were funny and surprised and they walked like they were bouncing on springs. Their calls were creaky and teal-colored.
Today, hearing somethings fluttering in a bush but never seeing them, birds or insects, maybe it's better if you don't know, there is a certain sense of loss once you know something.
Yesterday I made a daisy chain and wore it on my head; in the dance dressing room I left it hanging from a lightbulb cage. I found out this girl took it later and that she was really excited by it; there is no person I know whom I would rather have had discover it.
Today I made a bracelet of dandelions and I am going to wear it until it disintegrates or I do, whichever comes first. It might be giving me a mild allergic reaction, but that is no matter. It is also mostly dead by now, but if someone asks, they're just sleeping.
Yesterday I chalked "Fear does not stop death / it stops life" (not my quote) on a (different) tree; I would never do anything to a tree I wouldn't do to a person I loved and trusted with my life. Afterward I ran my fingers over the surprising roughness of its grayish-white bark. A monitor came over and asked what I was doing to that tree and I said I wasn't doing anything and he stood and watched me touching it for a little bit. Then he said, "Someone's been leaving their sayings in this tree." In my other hand was the piece of chalk. I feigned surprise. "What does that say?" "Something about fear."
Afterward, watching shiny blueblackbirds like bruises without skin, pecking in the grass. Their eyes were funny and surprised and they walked like they were bouncing on springs. Their calls were creaky and teal-colored.
Today, hearing somethings fluttering in a bush but never seeing them, birds or insects, maybe it's better if you don't know, there is a certain sense of loss once you know something.
Yesterday I made a daisy chain and wore it on my head; in the dance dressing room I left it hanging from a lightbulb cage. I found out this girl took it later and that she was really excited by it; there is no person I know whom I would rather have had discover it.
Today I made a bracelet of dandelions and I am going to wear it until it disintegrates or I do, whichever comes first. It might be giving me a mild allergic reaction, but that is no matter. It is also mostly dead by now, but if someone asks, they're just sleeping.