#clamities

[I close my eyes and sink into a series of long, pleasant daydreams about dating a worm] [i hold you in my giant hands. i feed you compost-rich soil. we writhe around together in the dirt. You sit, content, in the basket of my shining green bicycle. Wind streams across your sensory cells. God, the sunset is beautiful today. I kneel, knees to the dirt. When I pop the question you do the happiest little wriggle, so I slide a diamond-studded ring onto the tube that's now your body--]

AAGH! [I snap back in a panic] No! I mean yes! But I do like you more as not a worm. I wouldn't like you more as a worm. Fingers are a lot better for rings. I'd never want to restrict your movement. [I nod resolutely] Yes, it's much better that you're not a worm. [I reach out to hug you but miss and fall over and hit my head and get knocked unconscious]

My funeral is short but sweet. Just friends, family, you. Not enough people to carry on the casseroles for more than a week, or to help you back onto your feet. You decide to join me. But some part of you isn't quite ready to go. A small, boneless tube wriggles from the shadow of your tear-stained body. You inch out of the bath, the house, the door. You are a worm, oh yes, and you found me so effortlessly.

I love you. I don't know what's left of me when I die. I love you. I don't know if you're you when you're a worm. But something in the nutrient-rich soil I fertilised still knows you.