She Would Be Half A

I've Been Depressed Many Times In My Life. But Under It All I'm An Optimist.

I Watched Her For A Long Time, Memorizing Her Shoulders, Her Long-legged Gait. This Was How Girls Left. They Packed Up Their Suitcases And Walked Away In High Heels. They Pretended They Weren't Crying, That It Wasn't The Worst Day Of Their Lives. That They Didn't Want Their Mothers To Come Running After Them, Begging Their Forgiveness, That They Wouldn't Have Gone Down On Their Knees And Thanked God If They Could Stay.

I Wondered Why It Had To Be So Poisonous. Oleanders Could Live Through Anything, They Could Stand Heat, Drought, Neglect, And Put Out Thousands Of Waxy Blooms. So What Did They Need Poison For? Couldn't They Just Be Bitter? They Weren't Like Rattlesnakes, They Didn't Even Eat What They Killed. The Way She Boiled It Down, Distilled It, Like Her Hatred. Maybe It Was A Poison In The Soil, Something About L.a., The Hatred, The Callousness, Something We Didn't Want To Think About, That The Plant Concentrated In Its Tissues. Maybe It Wasn't A Source Of Poison, But Just Another Victim.

I Wondered Where He Was Now Whether I Would Ever Hear Him Again. Whether Someone Would Love Him, Someday Show Him What Beauty Mean't.

Love Is A Check, That Can Be Forged, That Can Be Cashed. Love Is A Payment That Comes Due.