Garden Gnomes

The lust of you breath giver tickled my guitar strings
softly and rang the bell that gave an angel her wings.
I guess I can blame you then for taking away my garden-
weaving sweetheart woman with clip-on earrings and
hand-sewn sweaters.
You breathed too hard, rang the bells, she left, she's
gone, you took her away.
Away on the wings of song, fallen gout of the car door
 onto a black sea of
tar the place where pine needles fall,
fall carefully and silently into your lover's arms.
Swept away on a vein of blinding lights
sirens and chaos, strapped in places like a paraplegic by
men wearing white but far from saints,
working the night shift of the grave yard,
pumping air into your oxygen tank.
You scuba-dived in the great reef and felt the Caribbean tousle your white wispy hair.
In the end, I could tell a garden grew in your soul.
It took roots in your left ventricle, made it's way through your aorta and
the big black splotch they found on the scan was
really just the bloom of some other beautiful God's creation.
You really did it this time.
"It's not miracle grow, just TLC" You'd always say, maybe added with some
Pattington Bear and humming Handel's "Messiah" while picking weeds.
I can honestly say I'm still fucking pissed at the
world
because I don't even know the name of the man who
decided to play
god
and say "Oh well, there's no
hope"
I want to tell him You threw up your hands too soon.
Winter comes after each and every harvest the bloom would die
and spring would come, bring all back to life.
You would have argued with the lab coat,
I know, because you were the one to plant
full shades in full sun and have them flourish,
and your perennials would
still be there long after the snow had created torrents in the front lawn.
You, wind-blower didn't wait long enough,
so I blame
You.
You must be an American because everything about that was so
chop-chop, on the double, obviously she didn't want it that way if six hours later she was still in the boxing ring with no "ding ding" in sight.
A big fucking hello and thank you very much for
making my mom break down in the middle of
CVS while I stammered to make sense to the
manager,
stammered to find words to explain the situation the same stammer I make when people say they're sorry
I don't want your sympathy.
Back to the manager, I think it went a little like "Well um Ma'am no, well, she's not crazy, she's just gonna need some, um, well, uh, TIME, yeah that's what she needs. Time"
Tick tock tick tock
You know we all do.
Some things though,
are simply easier said than
done.