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What are you knitting?

"Nothing,"

I say.

A scarf. An Afghan maybe if I get up the energy to make seven of them and sew them peacably together.Do you like it?

when it's done it will be a
kaleidescope,
it will have colors and colors and colors.
when i bought the yarn it was for you, my heart, but now...
well, it could be
still
for you.

Oh.

"Oh?" Is that all you can think of to say? Don't you have some high and mighty words to make me feel low? Don't you have some cool quotation by a dead poet to show me how cultured you are? Can't you sing me some aria or place stones on the ground in a fibonacci sequence? Go ahead, Miss, count to Pi for me...Why have you followed me here anywa-

What are you doing in my woods?

"I didn't know they were yours."
Of course they are yours, you foul creature, you hag of the swamp, of course this heartachingly silent spot is your retreat.
How fitting, Your Spongy Highness of Fungus, I might have expected that the mushrooms would worship you, in fairy rings about your feet.

Is it true that fairies love mushrooms?
Just one more way that you and I fit so wrong,
I am the most grounded person you knew...
my minerals, my stone was not enough to keep you solid,
you had to let loose your spores

"Don't look at me like that."

It makes me want to break. It makes me want to feel you again, and I know that the only course from there is dark, darker than those parts of yourself that you've shown me.
Because the same places, inside me, have never seen the light.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving."

Oh, okay. See you at work tomorrow.

Jesus, I need to get out of this town.

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