brave ants. damn they're courageous. travelling far and wide to find the water droplets in my bathroom.
it was a dandelion that adorned the left side of her back. too captivated by the way she arched it to discern the first time.
it's here. lick your fingers.
it's here. sit on my face.
i massaged my dad's leg. i gently worked the doughy dense fluid into shape. the ligament. bone. my hands finally peaceful to heal with only love unclouded. he said i have nice hands.
it hurts. sometimes it just hurts. and our only job is to feel it and get a few good ones in. before it hurts again. no telling when that next one will be. only how we meet it. whether an instant or a biblical travail like Job.
the ants got sprayed. then we left em alone i think. i don't know. i don't have the heart to tell the ants to leave. cuz you know, nothing novel here, but sometimes i feel like one.
