sorry

i approach it always from the wrong angle. the light always shines behind my back so that i throw my shadow upon you. then i want you to feel sad for me. i want your shadow to eclipse mine and we make sparkling darkness. glistening obsidian i saw once inside an ancient volcano in the desert. now all i have left are the purple beads you gave me for christmas. the dalmatian you promised me for our wedding day. the sand i photographed as you were walking ahead.

i am sitting on center stage. and it is the day of your death but you are there paying for the feast. you are shaking hands and thanking the butcher for killing the pig. the butcher's face contorts into a grin. your hand is nothing to him without your money in it. the gardeners are already packing it in, the palms and fruits that are beginning to rot on the table attracting tiny buzzing insects. and then you turn to see me crying. and i see the question upon your countenance before you ask, why are you shedding all these tears my love? i do not understand. see all of these people who came to my wake? they love me you see? it is a beautiful day. why are you shedding tears my darling? go outside and water the spring flowers with them.

and i am not writing this so you can feel sorry for me.