The grass was cool

The grass was cool,

a sudden prickle,

a green shock against

my bare soles.

Soft, then stiff,

a damp tickle.

But I wasn't there.

I was in the car,

watching the clock crawl.

Waiting for the phone

to ring, or not to ring.

The dry mouth,

the stomach churning low.

The way the light

hit the dashboard

and made the dust

look like tiny planets.

The grass felt real,

a moment's anchor.

But my mind spun,

tight and frantic,

miles from the cool blades,

from the quiet earth,

into that hot,

uncertain space.