her absinthe-green shoes lay carelessly in the grass
forgotten as she reposed on the live oak’s broad bough
stop smirking, she sulked, i can climb trees in a dress
he smiled down at the rosy lips pursed in a pout
at the wild tangle of hair seeking adventure in the wind
suddenly he felt extremely brave, as if the world were his
and no one could steal the bliss of the moment away
tell me, he said casually, do you belong to anyone?
have the faeries lent you to humanity as a tease
to remind us that they still lurk in the bottom
of gardens and in ancient groves of birches?
or did you spring into being fully-formed
like athena from zeus, only without origin?
she laughed with child-like abandon
glee bubbling up from the tips of her bare toes
i am so ordinary as to be unbearable, she recited
swamp eyes alight with impish mischief
i have a mother and father and brother back there,
and even a being so mysteriously inscrutable as a dog
they took my wisdom teeth so now i play fool
and make foolish people laugh at my lowly rhymes
i breathe air and my stomach growls when i am hungry
i was born twenty years ago, but grew up two hundred
her narrative ended, she gazed back at him
uncertainty shadowing her face
i knew there was a bit of alice about you
he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled
only you could say without a qualm
that you grew up two hundred years ago
and that’s why i —
why you what? she whispered
he ran a hand over the day’s-worth of beard
adorning his chin and thought how to say it
the truth he’d been longing to tell her
but spoken words had always tripped his tongue
why i think it might be time for tea
they bid farewell to the oak and wandered
back through the cobblestone streets of town
he wanted to hold her hand, but it clutched
her absinthe-green shoes
