flowers

flowers knocking on the door
dragging me out to the street
down to the corner to the
coffee shop and then stopping.

what? I asked them. what?
I was still in my pajamas.
I didn’t even have shoes on,
just socks, (that were all soggy
because it rained the night before).

what is this all about? I asked.
the flowers just stared at me,
silent, emitting a pleasant fragrance.
I didn’t even know what kind
of flowers they were… I’d think
they were daffodils, then look away,
then look back and they’d be
roses, or tulips, or orchids…
on and on.

they were flowers. mainly. flowers.
and they had knocked on my door
and dragged me down the street to
the coffee shop and then stopped.

I figured there must be a reason for them
to go to all this trouble. I stood there,
in my pajamas and my soggy socks and
ever-changing bouquet of flowers,
scratching my head. Finally, I lit
a cigarette. and the flowers kept staring
at me. and then, five minutes later,
I walked back home and put them in
a venetian vase.

dj
11-10-13