I.

It was March and
the crocuses were sprouting,
small blossoms dotted the fields
around our house with
tiny blips of color.

They grew suddenly while we slept.

I woke first and walked barefoot
down to the kitchen,
out through the side door to the yard;
I ripped the seedlings up with
sleep-numb hands and
poured a can of Morton’s salt
upon the soil.

Barren,
we greet the morning together.


II.

So I’m sitting at the bar,
Having a beer or two after work
And I see this broad,
Real nice looking bird,
A couple seats down from me
And she’s got one of those fancy drinks
With the salt around the rim and the little umbrella
You know the type,
Had this brown dress on,
With these wilted flowers all over it-- hideous really
So I’m just leaning back against the bar,
Checking her out,
And she turns a bit so I can see her face

She’s just kinda looking into her drink
Like the whole damn world is in that cup, right
Hasn’t noticed me checking her out yet,
So I keep real cool like
Just glancing over every few ticks
Getting ready to tip my beer or
Drop a napkin—
Get a closer look, if you know what I mean

When all smooth like she picks up the glass
And puts it to her mouth,
Likes she’s gonna take a sip, right
But she doesn’t
She just sorta holds it there
Rubs a little, you know
Like she’s putting on lipstick
Just rubs it against her lips

And I lean closer without meaning to
Like this broad rubbing salt
On her lips is some kind of magnet
And I see her eyes are closed
And she’s shaking a little,
Like she’s cold
Or maybe excited
And she tilts her head back a little
Just enough so I can see her lips better
And they’re all split up,
Like she’s been out too long in winter
But it’s August for God’s sake

And this broad’s lips are all cut up
And she’s rubbing salt in them and shuddering
And I can’t stop watching.

III.

They take me down to that
December-dark shoreline
The tall grasses and sea reeds
have long since given way to cold
I’m watching as clouds swallow
the pregnant moon and
I wonder what it would be like
To give birth to reflected light
Once a month for five billion years

Perhaps if I lay here long enough
I will be scarred and tunneled
The salt will carve me into a planet
A pale, little sister for the moon
I’ll orbit her like a doting sibling
And she will have something new
To bounce her light off