Untitled or ‘Happy Leap Year’

LEAP, YEAR: ! Grow faster; twist.. No, you’re not doing it right. Try harder. I hate that sometimes the prettiest things get cold and then fade out of existence like awkward memories from your childhood breakfast/dinner table flickers like a freshly lit match and all of a sudden its out. Light another match. It goes out. Light another match. It goes out. Light another match. It made me giggle with her extra, little and at the end of Feb. on a curb underneath streetlights and our shadows intersected and mingled until I got up and went home. Open mail box bathed in shimmering moonlight frogs pour out and onto the floor. It rains. Hard. No frogs, it just rains water. But hard. And big. And I can feel it hitting me and there are worms wiggling out onto the sidewalk and I’m trying to avoid them but there are snails too and although they’re not wiggling there there (too) and I’m trying so hard not to avoid them but there are so many frogs and then I realized I forgot the extra day I had been carrying for you only I didn’t really forget I just had it in my back pocket and it only takes a second to realize but in that second I stepped on a snail and I knew it I knew it before my foot even hit the ground and actually it didn’t even hit the ground I held it there (there) an inch above the ground as the soft crunch echoed in my mind with the rain in the background and the pudgy cushion of soft membrane was not enough to stop t h e crunchy vibrations from traveling up my leg and into my chest and then behind my eyes and I’m staring at you as the rain washes away what’s left and other snails come out and go to you and I don’t know what they’re doing but I’m staring right at you.
Happy Leap Year.