The house is empty, and the walls are white. The couch is white, and my bed is white, and the posters on the wall are black and white. Shock of deep red bougainvillaea in a bottle; cactus in a jar. A small galaxy of dust and tree pollen swirls on the bare wood floor.
White butterflies in the garden, destroying the leafy greens, moving like light through the fruit trees. Blue sky and the November chill, late tomatoes, aster.
Where am I going, and who will I love?
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