My Puzzle
I’m supposed to only take the untarnished stuff with us.
Bringing this puzzle.
It would be like taking-
The torn off leg of a wasp.
Or a throw pillow with blood on it.
My sister knows the tangled, sloughing, disruptive stuff.
But when we talk, that stuff flattens out.
Puzzles are something you do with people you would want to hang out with.
There’s two of us, and I’m the one being pieced together.
Clink.
I’m energized by something more.
I wonder if I go a little further…
If the gasoline will dry up.
And let the puzzle die.
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