dear me/you
will never lose
your taste for citrus and salt     your touch
for sowing fool seeds in ephemeral fields
for reaping dandelions and bricks
at times there will be grit between your teeth
the sound of bad advice
the smell of outrage in your sweat
sight will shift astigmatic     turning
8 to 3
honors to horrors
gum to gun
and that’s why you shoot yourself in the foot
so just stay put     get grounded     then spring
a few extra roots     unfold
in your own sweet time
have faith in the flower