My Love for Nature

All this tall grass has ruined my gold acrylic nails & I know something’s dead just beyond my window. I grew up with rats running my floorboards & know the smell straining from a body once caught in a trap. In the city what little I have of an ass is always out, a simple wind blow from Marilyn Monroe-ing the street. Here, in all this nature, there is nobody but me & my 5 friends for a week & I promised myself I’d be naked but the first day I found a tick clinging to my arm hair for dear life & decided no way I’m exposing my pussy to the elements. My love for nature is like my love for most things: fickle & theoretical. Too many bugs & I want a divorce. Last week, before I was here my uncle drove me from our city to the suburbs & sang “Project Chick” in the car. When we parked he asked me to take off my shoes & there we walked, silent, barefoot circling the lake, trying to not step in goose shit. He walked in front & I trailed behind both our hands clasped behind our backs. When you were my daughter, those were the happiest days of my life. I wish you would come home.