When I learn how to tune a guitar

I'll learn how to twist my world into the sounds I want it to be. I'll find a man to love me the way all the old covers of records show men loving women with lovely long wild hair and bare feet. Sitting in kitchens on Sunday mornings, reading under trees, swimming in lakes. Real and true and always like the grooves of the records. Unshaven, smelling like dirt. When I learn to grow a garden I'll learn to keep things alive. And when I can't, I'll bring them back to life. My heart is covered in green moss, moss that needs a cool and dark place. Cold and furry on my bare feet, like broccoli heads. Soft and easy to walk on, my broccoli heart. But always growing in the darkness. Living in the dark cool place this scary world has created. My mossy green heart.