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Walk to the greenhouse,
Sit by the heater,
Enjoy the warmth.

Pull out an iPod and a notebook,
Smile at the rustling plastic,
Lean back to day-dream—

And crash into the heater.

Blackness followed by a growing awareness.

The yellow notebook is buried in mulch.
The heater is on its back.

Jump to your feet,
Lift the heater,
Trip over the chair—

Vague images of hair over eyes,
Close-up of lips.
Strip out the soundtrack and make me
Say what should’ve been said.

The iPod is face down inside a clay pot.
The screen is not cracked.

Dig out the notebook and
Write what you came out here to write.