Stoner

I bought a window

A thin sheet of

Squarely perfect glass

The man came this morning

He was surprised

Because I told him

To put it in the back yard

On a stick

Like a head

I stood in front of it

Holding a rock

In my left hand

Even though

My right arm is my throwing arm

I looked through that window

Squeezing that jagged little pebble

Until

Imagination became insufficient

And I let go

Of the rock

I was testing the water, watching

And reveling in the shatter

And the splash of glass shards

I found that I missed the rock

The cool and the can’t of it

So I walked across the grass

Knelt in the glitter

And began

To collect the pieces

And force them

One by one into

The painful corners of my skin

My uncomfortable zones

I am sitting at the kitchen table

With a cup of hot tea and honey

I am not drinking

Instead

I am looking into the still-sparkling

Space where my window

Used to be and thinking

Maybe

I could call the man

Who brought the window

To see if he can

Fix it