The moon was ready like we planned. I wanted to carry it over the hill but couldn’t find my wheelbarrow. I looked in the shed so long the sky replaced it with the sun.

I came to meet you anyways, lit up and empty handed. I was three years late and you didn’t recognize me.

and I said I want it all. I want to lay on the floor and hang art on my walls. I want to dig my hands into sand and watch it fall back together. I want to make time for everything and do nothing with it. I want to sweat in the shower and scream at the bottom of a pool. I’m hungry and I want it all. I’m hungrier than a bird that swallowed the big blue sky.

‍

Of course I want to break the pattern. Of course I hate upsetting balance. Do I have two personalities? Yes, sometimes even five. Some days, like today, I am all of them and all of the places they want to be. And everybody makes me nobody, nobody nowhere.

I am doing my best and standing still. Asking myself how a rock can be more than a ripple. I stand at the bank and look at reflections. I turn a pebble in my hand and visualize skimming it, the way my parents taught me when I was younger.

I look away before it sinks. I turn it over in my fingers. I do nothing. I do nothing. I become a statue and the sun is setting. I think I can control it. I think it sets when I think about you. I think about you

—all the time.