I climb the tree at the show
after the man with pruning shears in his back pocket
I ask him what he's assessing, what's its name, how old is it
tissue density he says the most important things can't be seen with the eyes
he taps the trunk in different places
b's mom calls them in the middle of their set inside
isn't a carob the little prince tree I ask
baobab he says
this is the oldest carob I've seen in santa cruz
probably 100 years
that was my guess
he leaves me sitting out on a branch alone
in the next set ghost harmonics sound like a boy child chorus
we talk about joan of arc, silvia federici
temecula, antifreeze, jung
I go home and dream I am reluctantly involved with j
not at all in love but allowing it
wake up to his texts sent one minute before my alarm
go to work and watch them continue to turn and spray my empty fields
get home and roll the trash to the street with h
my therapist and I both have glasses with tinkling ice out of frame
