Don’t ask him why, he won’t answer. He’ll just look through you a little to the left of your ear; making you want to turn around. It’s not because he doesn’t want to tell you, it’s just that he has a hard time finding the words inbetween the plots and lies, the bullshit that gets left behind and takes root growing hard and fast like weeds. Have pity. Hold your questions in.
Tomorrow he’ll bring it up. A day ahead. Well rehearsed and you’ll nod and say okay. We can’t all be gardeners. We can’t all cultivate the love we want from the land. Some thumbs are no shade of green. That can be okay.
We can want for nothing but answers and still come up thirsty. If we come up at all.