ear buds

i resorted to
buying bags of seeds:
pumpkin & sunflower & tulip
& azalea: laid them all
out on my desk to examine 
my options on any given night.

the soil in my skull,
a terracotta pot,
a planter by a window.

i tilted my head
to drop that night's seeds 
in my ears. this isn't
a metaphor for drugs.

i really did this,
everyday. i needed to.
haven't you ever wanted
to feel roots around 
your jaw?

headphones in, blurting
Green Day & Sex Pistols
i'd imagine becoming a 
girl who played guitar & smoked
cigarettes & wore fishnets 
underneath her jeans.

lily & marigold headed
i would grow up
to be in a rock band.

i would be a bowl full
of rocks &

bloom & burst,
i attracted swarms 
of bees singing distortion:

their yellow bodies
falling onto the driveway 
as guitar picks.

headphones in
i peered out my bedroom
window & watched my dad

walk each orange
recycling bin 
to the curb.

dad kept his seeds all
over the house. 
in kitchen drawers &
old shoes.

Nirvana playing softly
from the mouth of 
a white carnation 
in his head. 

when he fell asleep 
i stepped inside his head
to walk among the strange
plants he kept there.

what daughter doesn't
scour the dirt for what her father
is planting?

i collected seeds
& set them on my book shelves
in rows,

too hesitant 
to use them.