“You only get one body, but you can always change your mind”
– Maiday
Was summer.
Her yellow dress
and long hair seemed,
against the sky,
a reflection –
some memory made bright
by the light or the heat.
It’s hard
when you want to love.
She wanted a picnic
and was enthralled
with cut bread and green,
endless views.
I remember those ants
scurrying about, working
to survive, sliding
distrust of necessity
that was a plate
with sliced fruit.