You are like a friend who
talks too much. My only
option is to listen.
I resent your insistent
voice and the way you
connive to turn the trees
and lake into bit players
in your orchestra.
You have been speaking at
gale force for days.
Please tone it down.
You lifted the upside-down canoe
from its perch atop the dock and
heaved it in the lake the other day,
remember? You have stranded me on land,
but do you care?
Your howl is a ridiculous and neurotic
internal conversation that deafens
you to your impact on the world.
You remind me too much of me.
You have sustained
this self-indulgent madness for days,
turning our Tibetan
prayer flags into handmaidens,
taut to your bidding.
But maybe that’s why the flags exist, maybe
they are thrilled to whip and snap, to
become wind lovers, your lovers,
addicted to your heavy breathing.
Yes, of course, they need your wild force.
How else will they carry millions of prayers
for peace and calm aloft?