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66 Tree of Life Maybe you’re in a place I’ve never been say Michigan. It’s summer. Poplars throbbing green all around you. Maybe she’s a Leo and she’s standing in your driveway with her breasts like the gospel and her hot gold hoops. Or maybe she’s a Cancer and you’re the kid in chemistry staring out the window, dreaming of a queen. Writing her a letter in your blue jay mind: her of the homecoming. Her of the deep thoughts. Her pale new body keeping safe an old soul at seventeen. And didn’t you love her. Didn’t you try. Didn’t you find her standing in your driveway on a Tuesday night beneath a cracked blue dusk when she was perfect for the last time. Her of the wild. Her of the father. Her before the tree of life. Before she was prey. Didn’t you love her in your silent way—listening to everything she could think of to say to you until her voice made a home for you and the world went dark. ...


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