Poem: "The aloe plants are happy here, with you"
"The aloe plants are happy here, with you"
They are still small, but are growing,
seem to be, as she has said, happy.
I like their company too, I tell her.
It is the truth. I like them being here,
sitting with me when I sit outside in the sun.
I will talk to them, sometimes. I tell her this, too,
tell her that I talk to her plants.
What do you tell them, she asks me,
and I do not even know the answer.
I tell them anything, everything.
I read them poems I am reading,
or ones that I am writing. I speak to them.
I do not think they understand me.
I do not believe that. I speak to them
because it is a connection.
They are alive, are not just things,
but beings. I talk to them,
I do not care what I say
because I do not think they care
what I say. They don't understand,
not the words. Maybe they know something,
maybe they are aware of me, of my voice.
I don't know if that is the case.
I don't really care, though. I do it
because it reminds me
I am not alone, even the aloe plants
can be counted as company.
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