Pollen

I understand every living thing's need to reproduce.  I intellectually support the trees' inclination to pollinate.  I love the way hummingbirds beat their wings 80 times a second to draw nectar from bright colored plants.  

But, good God, I pray to you to make it rain tonight.  I pray to you Muhammad and Mamaragan.  Orisis.  Rama, Yu-huang too. 

Brother Iroquois of the Oneida Nation, come with your drums, 
teach me to stomp and pound my feet into this dusty yellow soil.  I don't dance with anyone, but tonight I will dance with you.

And when the rain falls, I will kiss every single one of your godly cheeks and vow to worship you for the rest of my life.  I will be a Hindi Islamic Aboriginal Taoist Egyptian Christian Universalist if it'll help.  


Perhaps, if nothing changes soon, some scavenger bird will find me strewn on the side of the road and will pluck out my swollen sinus cavities as a delicacy.  I see you spying me angry crow.  I hear you call and stir your sisters.  

I have an extra $17, 300 in my savings account - give or take $17,300 - and I am willing to pay anyone with clean hands to rub my temple and bless my ragged throat with any kind of legal or illegal remedy.  These are desperate days -- burnt orange on every map -- and I have now been pushed to desperate measures.  


I feel as if I could make a necklace with my teeth.  Lace them together with the strands of angry hair from my tender head, then wear it as a idol to the westerly winds.  

Push the weather our way Chicago, kick the storm towards us Toledo. Blessed Vermillion, I'm begging you, plant a sloppy wet kiss on Cleveland.  A quick one night stand.  No strings attached.  I won't even write your phone number down, I promise.