mamihlapinatapa
condescending son of a bitch, trying to teach me how to play chess. ill pretend i know how. i'm familiar. i have no tactic and i know i cant win against him, but i have too much pride to admit this. he stares at me. we lock eyes. i cannot tell which kind of stare this is. for me, its permeating. i blink. its still my turn. i offer him a mint. its still my turn.
ode to menthe, you perennial beauty. keeping my drinks crisp and my lovers breath fresh. you grow toward the sun, curling your way around my window sill into the light. spearmint and peppermint to name a few.
one day we will sit in my backyard, sipping mint juleps and chatting and smiling and undressing one another with our laugh. its summer and its time.
there was a slimy film covering my teeth, the usual product of a long night of drinking. they felt furry and i knew my breathe was no winning combination. if i couldn't find a toothbrush a mint would have to suffice.
Annie sneakily plucked a single leaf from my spearmint plant sitting atop the square wooden kitchen table. then, i knew she was the reason my plant was slowly dying. i had nurtured it for nearly a month and now, at closer look, i saw it was slowly growing naked. she smirk at me sideways, knowing i had seen her.
perhaps ill make a mosaic with the remnants of my former plant pots. im unable to cultivate a garden and keep it alive, this mint plant is my last shred of hope.