By R. Aaron Flores
I guess I stopped watering the pothos,
Which lives on top the bookcase
Reserved for all keepsakes other than books,
Since my best guess was I’d be leaving soon
And I guess overall I'm testing
If it will become
More drought-tolerant
Through this behavior
When its roots can only dig
So much deeper
In search of moisture
In an unpromising pot
Or if that’s just what I have to tell myself
To keep some space between us both
To make it easier to say goodbye
On one side it has a living vine
Trailing just past the bottom of the very top shelf
On the other side it has a browned spirit
Vestige which even dead and desiccated
Reaches so much deeper into my storage
Almost to the top of my most useless bottom shelf
Where nothing is memento
Just old ideas I can’t get rid of
And that’s what I have to worry about at home
In the fields, I feel more self-assured
Having internalized that every day
We must walk along the strawberry in the rows
To make sure no ready and willing fruit
Quivers to a pill bug’s tummy before ours
It’d be enough to make me sick
Because I’ve seen it happen before
So now before I leave for the cottage
I check on both rows like a good boy
And like how Travis said we should
Which I trust, because I know he’s a good boy too
The only part I don’t like
Truthfully
Is when the plants make me think of you
Truthfully it's tempting to say
I selected my seeds just for you
The soil seemed right
And the way I assumed they’d grow
Made them seem like the perfect companions
If only it were that easy
And if only I’d really been willing
To dig into the dirt beforehand
You didn't really do anything
To make me so scared of the
Timing of it all
You just stay your best dressed and
Put me in nothing but a poncho
And send me to the fields with a vague
Promise to help pat me dry when I return
No matter what I’ve managed to harvest
Perhaps the uncertainty is what
Makes me so afraid to stay wet
Which I project onto my poor, poor pothos
As you know, it’s not flowing water
Which frightens me
Just water when it's falling
On & over & around my head
And it feels like frustration when it's really
Fear of the unknown
And either way it doesn't serve me
I love streams so much that I once
Paid to sit by a channel
Just to watch you dance
Your only fan
Which, if not true,
Makes me at least
Your biggest fan
Remaining true
In some way
To this day
True you
True to you
I miss you so much, my friend
I wish I didn’t have to,
But I do
I get anxious wondering if my babies
Will end up knowing your name
But that has nothing to do with
My current work order
So it’s back to work, and
I don't know how other
Hardworking boys in Texas do it
I just know how you did
And how I'm doing now
So I transpire a little water
On the pothos
Every now and then
Until it's certain that I'll be gone
For any substantial length of time
For now, it's me and plants
In the season for wildflowers
All stretching toward the sky
And rooting deeper into the earth
Learning what we can about the water
And understanding more about our soil
To be able to better comprehend
The next time I say, I love you
R. Aaron Flores is a writer of poetry, essays, and fiction and a communications professional based in both Houston, Texas and Brooklyn, New York.
Aaron's writing typically centers around the queer Brown experience in various forms and often integrates his extensive time in nature. His professional communications engagements are all social impact-focused with an emphasis in agriculture, policy and political representation, health access, and urban land.
For his work in local policy, he has been appointed to several advisory committees for the City of Houston. As a volunteer and advocate, Aaron gave the TEDx talk, “Building Authentic Community by Seeing Your Neighbors” on localism and the built environment, he was featured on the University of Chicago Public Policy Podcast for his work after Hurricane Harvey, and he was a founding member of the Houston Women’s March.
Aaron, who answers to several other names (aflo, raf, renay, and more) depending on your preference in the absence of his own, plays outside a lot, often trail running, paddling, hiking, swimming, and more. As a writer and thinker, he is ultimately interested in reconciling the primal aspects of our human nature with our relatively recent existence as urban, public animals. You can follow him on Instagram or on his homepage.