dandelion girl.

you mistake me for a flower.
they all do.
i don't want to waste my time 
anymore asking you what
it would take to be one--
i'm a dandelion
& i have no other names.
i'd rather you call me
a weed than a lilac--
i don't have fangs like
a rose or lips you can
press like a tulip--
this little girl who 
killed the grass--
i cut my hair scruffy 
as a worn tennis ball--
my leaves crinkled
dragon tails-- thrashing from
a gap in the pavement--
i break stone-- break side walks
hold hands with another sister
from the other side of the parking
lot-- we were made for this kind
of contagious radical love
whose petals cough sugar 
into the cool dew-- 
did i fool you?
i take pride in confusing
young children who don't 
like it when their parents 
insist that they not
collect us-- 
you don't put dandelions
in the vase son-- 
vases are for
flowers-- the type with
lips & cheeks &
petals that blink to
the kitchen table like
eyelids--
we bow for the belly of a 
bi-plane--
you little boys wanted to
pick us anyway so
i smudged
pollen under you nose--
there was never enough
body here to become a
bouquet-- 
still my roots grew & grew
until driveways
beneath me snapped 
like graham crackers--
churned back into dirt--
this is the breaking of the bread--
this is our dandelion bodies--
this is where
our heads
fall off into the grass--
where we feel our faces
pulling away from
ourselves & we come
apart-- we come
apart in tiny propellers of
the same bi-plane.