like a moss or algae on the water
the neon grass rolls over the cemetery lawn
after icy winter rains
She makes little trades –
"if my friend comes through surgery,
I won't fuss about the stolen art piece – "
it was the best piece she ever made
and she knows it's random but feels better
calling it a take-and-give
why begrudge the person
who took it from irresistible impulse?
She would have sold it for money, right?
it would be more mature, she recognizes,
to forgo the thread of cause and effect
but it offers such small consolation