Trees

Tell me you get sad seeing the discarded trees lining the sidewalks. Piled up and waiting to leave like they were never there like we never spent hours handpicking ours from the rest. The days the weeks they spent serving as our centerpiece. Did any of it happen or did we just imagine it the same as the time before? Better to manage your expectations better not to have any from the start. I’m still learning what about you. Maybe that’s why we stood there for so long in the cold deciding on which one to bring home. What we thought we wanted versus what was ours to have. Still all I can think of are the tree corpses lining the edge of 8th Avenue of 18th street of Hudson of Metropolitan. I’m nearsighted I’m farsighted I’m whichever makes it harder to see everything we left behind. Still I wonder if you cared about how I was getting home. I try to bury these questions in sand or mud or whichever makes them sink the fastest. The rain was coming down I could feel it on the other side of the door. Better to pretend not to care I remember repeating that thought enough times until I started to believe it. Why do we try to do the nice thing I’d rather we just do the thing. We’re not meant to force it. That’s when my words start to shake when I pull at the chains hanging from my neck when my eyes avoid yours or was it the other way around? Let me walk home through the park wearing the wrong shoes. Let me get wet let me think about it until I can’t stand the thought of it anymore. The rain came down but it wasn’t a cold rain you know the kind? An end of summer storm in the middle of autumn. My glasses fogged up I lost my footing a few times. Fall to get up to fall to get up I’m okay okay? Just a little wet around the edges waiting for the next train to come.