we drove nowhere
and we spoke a language
that nobody understood
underneath a foreign sky
blanketed in the scent of pine.

you told me
my eyes were like envelopes—
because they were always
opening
closing
fluttering to the sound
of breaking seals
and ink stained fingertips.

i told you
we should run away
to a new land
with new faces
because
i was enamored
with people i had never encountered
and places i had never gone.

you laughed at me
and said that
if i didn't spend
so much time with my head
buried in world maps
i would realize
that i was living on one.

i remember
it rained that day
and the tea went cold
but the wind kept whistling
blue skies are coming
and i sighed
if only
if only

our film expired in may
but time replays it in my dreams
as a flock of birds
head north in the sky
(if they can move on after summer
and gather their souls
then maybe i too will try.)

the sky was earl grey
and the clouds were steamy sips
and i wanted to drink it all.

the leaves were star yellow
and the bark smelled of coffee
and the bakery was selling a moon made out of cheese.

there was an old man on a bench
he threw his wedding band in the sewer
i cried for him.

the birds were dreams
and the mountains, my obstacles,
tally ho young adventurer tally ho

i ran into an artist today
he drew signs on corner post buildings
but he also gave his lunch to a homeless boy.

my mom holds black holes beneath her eyes
and for the first time in days, she spoke to me,
"i'm worried about you. try to make some friends?"

dear mom, i am trying
i played chess with a man in the park
i helped a girl find her parents
i am content with who i am, mom,
now i am just trying to help others achieve the same.

i ran into the artist again today
and he taught me how to paint
and then he smiled at me and said, "you're different than the rest."

we made plans, me and the artist,
and i told my mom and she was pleased.
it looked like the constellations were back into orbit in her corneas.

the artist and i went tagging today
at least, that's what he called it.
i do not think i did so well, but he just laughed and said, "paint's not your talent."

spent the entire day trying to convince artist to tell me my talent-
he just smiled and smiled and
eventually, i stopped asking and smiled too.

there was a beggar on the street today
but he looked vagrant and i ignored him.
the artist looked at me sadly, gave the man four dollars,
and told me, "it's not your place to judge others."

the artist was in a hurry today
and we had plans to go painting tonight
but when i asked, he looked worried and told me to go home.
i know it's not right to feel hurt,
but i was.
he patted me on the back and walked the other way.

the first thing i noticed when i snuck out
was the odor-
it was stale and salty, like the sky had rusted over.
the second thing i noticed was the artist.
he was wearing white splattered in red ink
and he was making little clouds with his puckered mouth.
the third thing i noticed-
was the gun.
i did not know the man holding it
but he had a savage grin that spat, "you made a mistake."
the artist was grim, the taut face of hot milk when it cools.
he looked at me
the way he did when i deserted the beggar
and whispered, "it's not your place to judge others."

it's raining bullets-
bullets and tears.

my counselor gave me a journal today.
she told me i should write about someone
who made living worthwhile.

so i wrote this.

once she read it,
she stared at me long and hard.
"you know," she murmured.
"you're a wallflower, ________. a wallflower."
it was a pretty word-
wallflower
i asked her if it was my talent
and she started to cry.

my counselor is an old woman.
she wears long skirts to cover her knobby knees
and mustard socks under black heels-
and she called me into her office today.
she was quiet for a moment
and then assured me the meeting would be brief.
she said she only wanted to thank me
for not judging her son.
she also said she thought he was an artist too.
then
i told her he was the best person i had ever known-
she cried again.

i went to his funeral today
and brought two sunflowers
and a canvas-
i assume he will continue painting in the next life.

i saw the beggar on the street again
and i stopped to fish for spare change-
the man looked apologetic but before he said anything
i looked at him and said, "it's not my place to judge you."
he smiled
then the traffic light turned green.

i thought about the artist today
and how he found art in everyone-
it made me feel like dark chocolate,
bittersweet.

this marks the day
i painted without the artist
for the first time-
i went back to the corner i met him
and drew a wallflower.
i wrote next to it
it's not your place to judge others
and for the first time-
i grinned.

the sky was earl grey again
and this time
i poured two cups of atmosphere-
( the artist and i had teatime in my dreams )
and for the first time-

i felt like a completed painting.
i felt whole.