the dead spider rested on my windowsill
using one piece of paper I pushed it
onto another piece of paper
then dropped it accidentally
behind some old paint cans next to the door
the orange tulips you gave me
for a second seemed to be in a mostly nice way
laughing as I bent down
wearing dishwashing gloves a blue
color not found in nature
in order to find the little brown body
that was for primal reasons
horrifying me and stand in the doorway
and hold it out in front of me
to the wind which even if everywhere else
in the city it is calm
rushes down our street
where the yellow Kawasaki 
is always
parked next to the green bin
I threw the candles we can’t light anymore
into because their wicks are gone
and you cried because
I had thrown out the beautiful candles
the sun turns in a different direction
everything becomes suddenly chrome
and now I am thinking on a hillside
where the wind is blowing very strongly
we will get married
our future a long sunny avenue
we have already walked part way down
or a pink umbrella
or a very loud water feature
in the middle of the city
around it on a concrete ledge
the workers sit next to each other
even though they do not know each other
and read silently together and alone

Original appearance in Floating Wolf Quarterly

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