burn

i use biscuits to lure a rain cloud
into my backpack for you.
we want to be sad. we want to be
really sad. i just burned my finger
on a candle & your boyfriend just turned
into a giraffe. i try to find the positives.
i tell you, "i hear they like to eat lettuce."
the blister comes. the rain cloud whimpers
in the bag until i let him out.
he likes your bedroom. he especially like
the little-kid stuff that's still here.
he asks how old we are & neither of us remember.
we ask him to do what he came for
which is to rain. he is embarrassed & so 
one of those frog disasters happens.
amphibians falling from his throat 
where the rain is supposed to come. 
soon we are the caretakers of dozens
of little creatures. you say, "happy mistakes."
i train the frogs to be like their mother,
an arsonist. they play with lighters.
the ground is wet as the cloud finds his footing.
starts to pour & i think "thank god."
that was all we wanted. to be soaked
& sad & cold like the frogs. you remind me
of the burn on my finger which is now 
a welcome mat. front door. bell. 
we let all the clouds in. apparently ours
was texting the rest. they say,
"we never met humans like you."
you cover you face & cry, "i do not know how
to be a zookeeper." we all pet your back.
we leave the room to help you 
walk your boyfriend to the safari 
where he can be happy. he eats lettuce
the whole way there. back in your room
we get sick of being sad. our shoes by the door
turn into lakes. ducks arrive & we have no room.
i ask you if you've ever considered 
getting a ghost. you shake your head.
you kick out the clouds & then me.
i want to feel better. i want so badly to feel better.
that was what the clouds were supposed to do.
i look at the burn, turning into a snow globe
on my flesh. i got it by snuffing out a candle 
by pinching it. not the brightest thing 
to do. i  buy biscuit dough
on the way home & hope ghosts like them
as much as clouds do.