Procrastination

I was given a Venus Flytrap Planting Kit in 1998. I really intended to water it and make it grow, so I took the unopened package with me to the thirteen plus places I lived in across two continents over the following twelve years. Yeah. Finally this past winter, I got around to planting it. Then, I didn't water it enough, the peat pellet dried out, and I threw it away.

Disgusting Love

"So, you want to share our reflections after you do your music thing," I paraphrase his words.

"Yes," says his voice, his face, and his eyes. I put my lips on his mouth and we kiss. He's getting over a cold but I'm not afraid of catching it because I'm sure it's the same one I just had.

Isn't there something disgusting about love? All the sharing, all the swapping? The saliva, the thoughts, the feelings... ugh! In a cleaner, more sanitized environment, one could potentially avoid saliva, thoughts, and feelings altogether. Or at least hope to. In this wretched state we call love, spit and complexities are inevitable.

Still, the spit and the heartache come prepackaged with someone who'll share them - someone who will benefit from them. You offer your lover the opportunity to take care of god's own flesh every time you have a cold or some hurt feelings. You know you can't hope to avoid the pains. You're gonna get them, but you're gonna get some sweet perks too.