violets on Jericho Turnpike

i called you from the bench with
an angry third arm. the violets
sat with their legs crossed 
in their planters beside me.
the carnations, dozing off, letting
the wind preen them of wilted brown
petals. it takes me apart too; a good
breeze & my hair flies away
in maroon & gold leaves. autumn
is an ache that lies dormant beneath
the asphalt but for now it is
too hot to be a body. the walk
signs are misleading here, red hands
waving from every crossing. i tell
you about each store front, reading
them like a menu or the index
of a book. when i hang up i linger
a few moments longer. there's a valet
parking cars for the Portuguese bisto 
across from me. he probably heard my
whole phone conversation. he looked 
past me like i was one of the potted
flowers & then i looked down to find
my feet into the dry dirt, my face
a purple bruise. the plants giggling
& hushing me, telling me to be still
or i'd give them all away. they waited
for dusk when the street was made
of only neon & stop lights & they 
pulled their feet loose. ambling
past shop windows up & down 
the Turnpike, some pointed to flags
in the international grocery store,
saying how they'd like to own 
a flag for Brazil or Colombia. 
they tell me i would make a fine 
addition, that i should stay &
window shop with them each night.
i tell them that i have places to 
go, that tomorrow i want to figure
out the buses & maybe the next day
organize the books on my shelf.
when all the cars go by they dash out 
into the street, hold hands & 
twirl on the double-yellow lines.
i tell them to be careful but they
don't listen. i don't run out
with them. my pink skin comes back  
& i blink, ankle deep in the planters.
a man wrestles with the chair's third 
arm & opts to just sleep beneath it.
i used my GPS to walk me 6 minutes home
& one of the plants followed me;
dug herself into the front lawn
until she became skin & bones. i brought
her some of my old clothing, but
said i was sorry but she couldn't stay.
if you let one flower in they'll
all want fingernails & knuckles.
i gave her a handful of change
for the 7 eleven. in the shower
i washed the dirt from between
my toes, plucked out 
the stray thin roots still leftover.