I came to the pond to write this poem,
but an angry little wasp protested.

She appeared in a dream before morn and noon,
her graceful hands cupping my eyes and pulling me back down.

I materialized in the midst of a grand celebration
with paper slips flittering all about the air, falling like snow

I caught his face in this otherwise faceless congregation,
a man I haven’t dreamt about in a long, long time.

And, presumptuous as I might be,
this was but a fleeting projection of the resting mind.

I’m married to Heidi,
he told me.

He did not teleport to my side like dream logic often states,
but spoke the words directly into my head like a ghost. 

And dear Heidi, it seemed, manifested as
my nemesis in every sense of the word. 

I admit I never saw her face.
Even so, I believed I already knew what she looked like.

Her eyes probably held secrets hidden within the depths of time,
her hair probably grew past her middle back and didn’t frizz when she brushed it,

Her smile probably blinded people with its brightness, 
and they probably praised her for it,

Her mind was probably revolutionary and boundless,
and her nails were probably long and unchewed,

She probably liked a lot of different foods,
and she probably wrote sonnets that brought tears to the eyes of every beholder.

Hell, she probably even farted glitter,
knowing her. 

And yet, that was the funniest part.
I did not know Heidi. 

I knew the envy that festered in my belly and whispered in my ears,
urging me to be rid of her entirely. 

I ran from the pond’s gazebo 
when that little wasp begun charging full force at me.

The Flower Garden from Howl’s Moving Castle narrated the chase
and the sun reflected off of the hair that had fully frizzed when I brushed it.

I thought of lunch as I ran home,
and of the three things I would actually eat. 

I thought of how I hadn’t smiled with my teeth
in my brother’s engagement party photo the other day. 

And as I disappeared from the gaze of summer’s little rage machine,
I lamented.

How I would have loved to see Heidi’s face behind me
in the water’s reflection.

Perhaps,
she would’ve looked a whole lot like me.