Day

And on this evening looking afternoon, you sit on the stairs and look.
A tree that covers most of the house from this far, making it seem like the spiral stairs actually lead to heaven.

One day I had a thought. And I named it evanescence.

Little garden next to parking lot. Fat green caterpillar eating leaves. Has this little thing on its side. A white drop, with a cicumference of black that looks like an eye. Eats leaves methodically.
You remember that science lesson from high school?
You see a leaf under a microscope and apart from the skeleton, the cells and all that actually grow ( or seem to) in straight lines.
So it actually eats the leaves bit by bit, vertically.

Summer of pigtails and red bermudas.
Dragon flies.
Running behind them all over the garden, soil as your shoes, wings for gaussamer flirtations.

One day I caught one of you. And you called it destiny.

Trying to scribble out a report, or a solution, to Fermats Last theorem one late evening in University. Looking up, spaced out. Floor cold below you, sneakers extending in front.

Two pieces of candy to melt in your mouth. A flush in your cheek. The sweetness touching you so intimately that it almost seems like a distant happiness.

One day destiny knocked my head hard. And I called it moribund.