I WANTED TO BE A PLANT

I WANTED TO BE A PLANT

I loved you so I fell.
I hurt my pride.
You tempered me
while I attempted to swing you.

You sat behind paper all day.
You weren’t paid much.
You looked at times uptight.

You had a small room—
big in places.
And your plants sucked in
the air you breathed
out.

I wanted to be a plant.

You helped every one,
yet you gave nothing to me.

If I could find a mad girl
like you in every
bar and corner,
I’d be lucky.

We both knew it
back in Kathmandu.