My friend, in a café talking
as my legs walk away from me

one leg at a time
escaping our table

sucking at the knees
of a couple

looking at me suspiciously
from a table paused

the staff ask, am I ok
just a touch of Parkinson’s

oh, they say
as I collect my legs

my friend taps my shoulder
comfortingly

who cares what they think
don’t worry

my friend keeps talking
I enjoy her every word

but my own words cannot be
while I must tether my leg animals

I can no longer
multitask

the staff would like to pat my leg animals
I think

they form an observation group
I’m about to ask if they have questions

when they set up a heater
below my knees
bring a blanket
do I need anything else

as we leave
my words bloat and bob

at my surface
burping rudely

I don’t get to say thank you
my friend smiles and my leg animals wave

the staff say
see you next time

your blanket will be here
for you

You say it’s a whisper of garden
compared to the old one you loved

an angle of juiced lawn frowning
as you announce it too small

mere echo of what was
like your body these days, you say

eyes deep
in the shallows and hedges

I climb into your landscapes
catch zinnia whirring planets

red asteroids of peony lifting heads
delicate moons dripping leaves golden

grass a soft whisper, hold on
to hills and valleys

watch, as they fill again
as sunshine follows rain