2006/mint

The mint
has broken
into bloom.
You’re supposed
to pinch it
back, but I
like the flowers.
I contemplate
a mint bouquet
in a small
vase,
but I won’t be
home tonight.
Driven out by
paint fumes,
which make
my lips go numb,
my brain and
body strange
in general.
I wait for
the painter,
sitting on the deck
in front of
a fan,
with my feet
up,
ants crawling
on my legs.
Making the
best of it.
Making a
summer break
of my toxic
exile,
iced mint
tea,
the second
of the three
mystery novels
I bought,
not for my
summer
vacation,
but to be my
summer
vacation.

7/27/06