You wrote ‘I love you’ on a small piece of paper and hid it inside a blue plastic ball. You threw the ball over the wall and into an empty lot at the back of your house. You liked to think that someday, someone would build a house there and your words will serve as its foundation. Or if not, that small round ball would somehow take root and a tree will emerge: a lovely, blue tree with shiny plastic leaves.
~ Impromptu Autobiography Written at 5:00 AM While Suffering from Insomnia
full poem coming soon…
