when you come home from work, i have painted the bathroom. and you stand in the door way and say, did you paint the bathroom? and i ask, what color was it this morning? and you say, ___. and i ask, what color is it now? and you say, ___. i must have, then, i'll reply.
this week, i am a suitcase. i am folded up like a suitcase, but when you snap the locks, will there just be place to put things in, could you crawl in, if you folded up? or will i be in there and you can pull me out? will you open me up and just find that i wasn't a girl smashed into a suitcase shape, but really just a suitcase painted to look like girl?
will it sadden you, to see me like that? is that the end of me? will you cry hot tears that run down from out house to the water, will you float me down that river into the bloated lake, will you follow me out or watch me go. will you wade then swim as i bob deeper in, will you tread water and open the latches and pull the water out,
will you be the one to swim into the lake and pull the water safely out?
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