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?