She is a willow
Forty acres of a dying lot
It hasn't rained since '97
Just a dust storm
On one infertile dirt clot

She is a gallon
Banana milk, expires tomorrow
Left out on the counter through the night
A yellow stain
Of coffee and cigarette teeth

She's a mix CD
Burned on a dollar store disk
Fully yielding, organdy translucent
Brittle, scratched
Thrown in the nightstand

I still watch the sky for that white vapor to glide over the tangy sun
I snap the lip back on
Restock the shelf
The date won't renew itself
I rub toothpaste on the surface
I'll never hear those five songs, again
So I'll return it to the nightstand
I'll return it to the fridge
I'll return to the crack underneath the willow tree
Empy out my canteen
And watch for a change in the seafoam green sky