Pearl

I have a friend in California. We’ve never met. I’ve been to California three times since we first met. Whenever she writes to the group I smile. Whenever she writes privately I laugh. She’s a gardener. She doesn’t do flowers. She’s an industrial gardener. One of her clients is a celebrated bookstore that has a garden where poets read their poems. I don’t care about the bookstore. It could have the most wonderful books. I don’t care about the poets reading their poems either. I hope they won’t be there when Pearl and I finally meet. She will be busy introducing me to all the funny trees and plants that I’ve come to know so well.