8) I kept watering seasons that had already died Botany is not my strong suit. I’ve called some plants dead and seen them turn Lazarus. I’ve seen other things in the garden prove to be venomous and carriers of death. Growth isn’t always good; sometimes it’s a tumor. I thought I was making progress, becoming the bigger person, using bygones as compost, cultivating forgiveness for use as fertilizer. But it all proved to be shit. Unbeknownst to me, I was watering a parasite, an invasive species. I thought: If I blow kindness on a lion—it will make things dandy. Not knowing, serpents can camouflage themselves among the dandelions. Not knowing, some creatures feed on the dying wishes of children with cancer; there is no line of decency they wouldn’t cross to get to the other side of the road. I know a demon who pardons turkeys publicly, but executes them in secrecy. I don’t know what any of this has to do with botany. I only know that there are supernatural serpents— they don’t feed on rats, they shapeshift into one. Knowledge of animals is not my strong suit. I’d rather try to stay focused on botany. There are plants that despise sunshine. There are creations that thrive in darkness. Not everything or everyone in the ecosystem means its fellow inhabitants well. For some to have power, they must weaken others. Destruction is never a two-way street. I should’ve listened to Quincy Jones. He put together an all-star lineup featuring Barry White, just to let me know there are secrets in the garden. In the beginning, I believed plants sung in a secret key of life. I didn’t know weeds would come to steal, kill and destroy. And there I was providing hydration, nutrients, energy, to what I mistakenly believed to be a cannabis fig leaf. Something to cover the nakedness of anger. Blame it on Michelle Obama. That go high when they go low was some bullshit. From here on out, it’s Cardi B. Back to hell. Back to the pit from whence they came. I’m done giving ice water to plants that burn the hand