Wednesday, May 25, 2011


when i turned 18 you gave me a plant. a yukka in a big blue ceramic pot. it lives outside the kitchen door even now.

this year it withers and dries up. i forget to take care of it. mother looks at it and says, "do you want to let it die?"

i say i don't care, but when she isn't looking i water it and fertilize it and plant my wishes among its roots.

i try to make it come back to life...


  1. It's good to hear from you, dear.
    Keep fighting and keep surviving.

  2. Spoken ignorance is not the solution but those lines are fine. They are good, I considered the moral of the text.