blink until the blind dogs come running

i caught myself writing nonsense on park benches again.  i just thought people could use some moral support from the things they sit on.  stuff like "you are a good person" or "keep up the good work, champ!"  

i keep running into the other room to look in the mirror and make sure i'm still here.  but sometimes i'm not.  it's strange to look into a mirror and see nothing.  i don't know what to think.  winter is breaking its own back and there are armadillos curled up on the welcome mat, waiting for the desert to come plant a cactus between our shoulder blades.

butterflies sleep inside her collar bones.  i have seen them dreaming.  it looks like a sunset painting itself across her shoulders.  she walks like the breath of the planet.  her body is a flower bed.