Capacity
Curious how this first talk over tea,
strangers becoming acquaintances,
strangers becoming acquaintances,
makes me think
of inchworms.
of inchworms.
Especially that spring
when they rained down
from the trees in the backyard
by the hundreds.
The first few that appeared
on the windshield
inspired my daughter to action
building private homes out of quahog shells
with leaf beds and leaf dinners
and little flowerheads
for atmosphere.
On the second day,
construction couldn’t keep pace,
Materials were in short supply,
and the furnishings and decor suffered.
Some of our heaven sent friends
had to bunk up.
had to bunk up.
By day three,
the car as iridescent green
as it was its native blue,
she was inconsolable.
Every departure down the driveway
was a genocide.
Now you are here telling stories
of couch surfing,
held by the kindness of strangers.
Something an inchworm would do—
base jumper, intrepid adventurer—
if only it didn’t take a lifetime
to cross those fifteen cement blocks
marking off the patio.
On a given day, you arrive,
vibrant and sincere,
vibrant and sincere,
but all the beds are already taken.
They say construction is underway,
but God knows
it will be generations of inchworms
to see it done.
to see it done.
