Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Strange

Once in August,
the city was silent and attentive.
It came to me
like a butterfly
and landed upon my hand.
Oh,
but I digress.
Did you see that fat woman in the Indian restaurant?
The one with the green cap on her head and the
pink stockings.
Strange.
It is getting harder for me to eat out.
Each bite is a nightmare
into a world unfamiliar.
Now the sky is turning grey
and the snow will begin to fall.
I wish I could be like that snow,
landing wherever I wanted,
tied to no one or nothing,
just falling,
falling,
falling.
Last summer I planted tomatoes in my yard.
They grew red and ripe and round.
I ate them before the insects came
and before the sun baked them into sauce.