Everyone else rubbed UV protectant onto skin,
flirted shoulders with oncoming traffic and the wind
while he walked to Prospect Park with suicide
note and kerosene, giving himself back to the earth.
There are days I think about setting my scars on fire
to see what new shape I might melt into.
There are days I grow numb trying to understand how
far down the trees' roots go or why letters in an alphabet
like LGBTQ make people so angry. Just yesterday, I breathed in
eight million skin cells and the secret messages of squirrels.
Everyone seems to be on a diet of hate these days; I just want
to get through a day where tongues tie us into love letters not
Until our better side takes over I am confident truly good souls such as the very specIall Aimee Herman’s will keep hope alive.
My love spreads love.