These are homeless men wandering in front of speeding motorcars.
These are trees suffocating under the weight of kudzu vines. These are
words thick like honey but deadly as venom. These are voices lazy as the
summer heat that passes through the body. These are flat lands where
water rushes into pools searching for a place to fall. These are piles
of dry earth after torrential rain. These are Bible-thumpers with porn
palaces every five miles on a crowded stretch of highway. These are
laurel cherries pouring pollen on my windows. These are traffic jams for
miles as all citizens inquire into who is receiving the ticket. These
are overweight shirtless men, no accolades or titles, playing with their
children in the garden hose, not the automatic sprinkler. These are
honeysuckle vines devouring my metal fence. These are dandelions,
magnolias, wisteria, and roses seeking whom they may devour, not
manicured gardens obediently bowing to their superiors. These are
buildings with chipped paint and homemade signs where they sell turkey
wings two days a week. These are angry insects who protect the sanctity
of their homes with fiery mouths. These are snow-less days, unchristened
earth begging for a cover of white tears to cleanse the stains.
This is where the wind is a surprise guest, not a reckless tenant;
Where life is obtrusive,
not tame.
Imperfect, contradictory, beautiful.
And I am just like you.
Perhaps it is why I'm falling in love,
despite all my efforts to the contrary.
I see my face in your many turbulent rivers
And know my soul has been suspended here until I could retrieve it
On a quest to find courage, not trepidation, and suffocate the past under a torrent of hungry vines.
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