pink-prints

I'm writing a letter to a february that lives in my future because

today I brainstorm and I brainstorm about project ideas.

how I love to think about project ideas, but

how rather like mud, those two words, encamping in my throat, the little toads:

project ideas.

google suggests designs, that's too official.

propositions, too archaic

schemes, she has some nerve

stratagem, bright and shiny

but too arithmetic

and blue-prints

will all in favor acquiesce?

(no noise but the sound of all ten fingers deliberating)

and what about pink-prints?

I've been chatting about pink for months, you're not obligated to listen,

you,

third party you...

in a dialogue between my past and my future

you are collateral damage

willing, involved, collateral damage,

it's nothing to me.

but you're sweet for sticking around.

so what about pink-prints?

and my heart aches for this february

knowing that the scheme is too early, not ripe, too early

like near-green strawberry babies

but some february,

soon,

maybe less than soon,

maybe only when I have a gallery, a guest gallery, a friend of a gallery, a lost sock of a gallery

maybe then

maybe then I'll make pink-prints all month,

little love letters to my savior

and I'll hang them from the ceiling with twine and twist ties

paperclips and clothespins, the little notes,

and they'll hang and flutter and take up a whole room from floor to ceiling,

a regular installation, they'll say,

completely worthless, they'll say, completely extravagant,

but they'll be oil

and they'll be a broken jar

and they'll be my curls and tears and kisses on the floor

and they'll be water color, construction paper, glitter, gel pens, ribbon, crepe, tin foil, satin, felt, pipecleaner, pom-poms, popsicle sticks, hot glue, lace, crayons, beads and wire, modge podge and all the fourth grader supplies my heart desires,

and none of the professional poison I so dread

please, pretty, please, future me

read and read and read the words from past you,

and remember,

pink prints for february,

pink prints for him,

pink prints to flutter from

the rooms you let him live in

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo