Fixation

I watch her drink water cupped
in her hands and when she
finishes I make sure to look away.
Her body curves inward at
her center and when she lets me,
I put my hands there,
and pull her in against my chest.
She says there’s nothing I can do,
but I continue anyway; saying anything
I can think of to try and occupy
her mind with something beautiful.
Fixation on the negative
has pulled us out of the natural
order in ways our ancestors only
dreamed was possible.
What are we now without those
burdens, thorn covered
vines growing stealthily,
tangled in tall brown grass?
Her fingers mark the glass
fogging the window,
and I can’t see her go.
So, I just wait out by my car,
and watch a flock of hot air balloons,
pass over the distant city, making slow
progress towards nothing.

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