I don’t think I’m parasocial,
but sometimes celebrities show up in my dreams,
Kit Connor singing onstage, Janelle Monáe faking their death,
and there’s nothing odd or fantastical about the fact I’m talking with any of them,
we’re just in each other’s lives I guess,
casually existing in the same space
inside my head–
until I wake up and wonder,
does this make me parasocial?
the fig wasp and the fruit:
the fruit needs the wasp to pollinate it
and the wasp needs the fruit to lay its eggs in,
but only one of them wins–
the wasp lays its eggs then the children eat their way out of the flower,
or the wasp dies and pollinates the plant.
Is my head the fig tree;
are these dreams hungry wasps,
am I making fruit off people I’ve never met
or are they laying their eggs in me?
Though at the end of times,
perhaps it doesn’t matter,
for if they lay their eggs,
I have another flower
waiting not that far away.
This week I learned how figs grow. Depending on your definition of the word…how fun.
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