I catch a school of fish from puddles in the backyard, filling the wheelbarrow in minutes. you emerge without warning, clambering over the fence on a branch from next door. maybe we are kids again today. I invite you to join us for dinner (we have fish enough for thousands). you don't respond, turning away to the rope swing or some other childhood relic half remembered. on the grass I'm twisting flowers to a crown for you to wear. you're transfixed by the garden. eyes wide deep breaths moving like an astronaut. I want to hold your hand but know to leave you be for now.
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