Pyramids In Marigold Space

Meanwhile in marigold space
the pretty yellow flowers
have become busy building
pyramids of cut granite.

I have no idea how
the pretty yellow flowers
quarry and cut the granite
or transport the building stones
or assemble the large blocks.
I have no idea how
the pretty yellow flowers
first grind then polish the sides
of the pyramids until
the granite’s natural grain
and color shine in the sun
as if the huge constructions
were single massive gemstones.

I want to cry. I do cry.
I like understanding things.
I have this fear, this terror,
I never will understand
marigold space pyramids.

I wish—Christ!—Paris Hilton
would hold me and whisper things
and then just in that moment
I would understand about
the strange granite pyramids
the pretty yellow flowers
polish in marigold space.

To feel her arms around me,
to hear her soft whispering,
to understand her warm words,
to live just in that moment,

like when I was ten years old
in my front yard planting seeds
that soon enough would grow up
as beautiful marigolds.

The pretty yellow flowers
have become busy building
pyramids of cut granite.

I don’t want Paris Hilton
to love me but if I write
something very, very cool
will Paris Hilton tell me
what the fuck is going on
with the granite pyramids
in marigold space built by
the pretty yellow flowers?