May/June 2019 • Vol. XLI No. 3 Nature’s NatureMay 1, 2019 |

Ficus

I split three pills with my ficus and now it’s being weird. It won’t drink my breath or eat the sun or fight off the spider and his wife, whom I also split three pills with, because it’s Christmas, because I was sad driving past the shuttered stationery shop and the woman dragging her kid on a leash. I split three pills with the woman and three pills with the kid. I measured my heart rate and pronounced myself legally dead. My ficus gave me three pills. I felt better. I told a bath towel, and my friend’s bulldog, and the dregs at the bottom of my tea. I told the three pills in my pocket and the three pills in my bed. Each one a loose pearl ready to string together in my belly, in the bellies of people I loved or thought of when I watched a pigeon disappear inside a hawk.

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