i think of mom planting fake flowers around the yard after telling my brother she wants to die. i think of genocide. i don't tell her what i think she doesn't know, as the mind goes on about everything i don't know what to think about, everything. think fake flowers don't need a gardener. think of mom thinking after mom's gone. think about it now while we're still here. think of everything. think about love and distance. now, after now, mom will be gone, there will be fake flowers and genocide.