Pisces

Pisces. Pull up a chair, my creature. The week opens and you are already underwater, I can feel it from the folding table — three texts you haven’t answered, a dream you woke up from at 4am still tasting the salt. Sweet thing. Sweet thing. That dream is trying to tell you something you already knew. Stop pretending it’s a riddle. The Cadillac’s got a quarter tank and Saint Cecilia’s been humming in my kitchen since Friday, so I know what kind of Monday this is. Light one white candle. Drink one glass of water before the coffee. Tell the person who keeps asking what’s wrong the actual answer, even if the answer is I don’t know yet. Go gently, little saint. The water remembers you.