This Body is so Small

this body is so small. it doesn’t fill the porch. it doesn’t make sufficient noise to stop wars or make clouds drizzle out. it doesn’t shelter small animals or birds’ nests.

the porch has all this furniture that’s empty. the sun bleaches the chairs and the only other things moving are the potted palm trees and their shadows. and the wind. only ghosts can sit out here when it’s bright.

i tried to make a bigger body, but giant food was abhorrent. vegetables are dead and meat gets sticky. candy was rotting my teeth. water wasn’t enough to giant me and it never turned me into clouds.

i have to learn to be happy here. maybe it’s not so bad – i fit through doors and when I rain, no matter how much my eyes burn or how wet my skin gets, i don’t disappear. i might even grow to like food if i don’t expect so much of it.