going without

i feel better going without you, like a small acorn nymph. i am curled inside a little warm world, eating stories and red currants when i am hungry, thinking of you only when the mists are too busy drifting off the wheat fields to talk to me.

yesterday i lilted from leaf to leaf of a beech tree, making raindrops fall onto the forest floor, and suddenly! you were there, writing in a notebook whose pages were wrinkled like they were left in the rain. i skipped down onto your shoulder (and you noticed me as much as usual), and read over your shoulder:

mon amour a des ailes,
j'ai les chaussures sales
je suis dans la mosquée
je suis froid d'aller sans elle

i sat down on your left shoulder, content to think you couldn't feel me through your corduroy. i twisted a bit of oak twig i carried with me into your hair. you looked away and i made three smudged footprints in your ink, and then i flew away.

going without you is almost my favorite.