Inside the Lines

by Weston Cutter

Because I have no good answer when the daughter asks why she can't become a dolphin, and because the rainbow is a letdown after the rain laces itself through sunlight. Because I can't unfurl my hungers enough to become bird +because I'm bad at gapping my heart's sparkplug+because distributor cap wouldn't be called that if invented now. Too political. Because meritocracy cap sounds as dumb as I do when I pretend I can help my wife through her dark thickets. Because some days love feels like fertilizer some days pruning shears. Because I have no tattoos nor cult nor radio station I write declarations into the dust on my car: follow me, I don't know the way! Because rain is the best coach, the sky whispering that's right, keep falling. Because I'm determined to become stubborn as sunshine. Because I've begun showering with my wife's soap since each day demands diminishing the self. Because enough with the established framework, the associative click of hearing two notes, three, then nostalgia freights into me like a bird into a window+I flap my wings wondering how many times I'll be surprised by the same old thing. Because today is to sit at the tree+listen to it breathe as it fights prying light, its leaves keeping its limbs a requisite secret. Because we're here to take impossible positions, holding tight onto our secrets while we look for anyone to give them to

About the Author

Weston Cutter is from Minnesota and runs Haven Watch Co.