If I gave you a white carnation, I might want you to know I’ve been fascinated with you for a very long time. I might tell you through veils of blue-gray smoke as rings roll off my tapered tongue that while we shape this world, it shapes us right back; a puffery of vice and superficiality.
If I gave you a white carnation, I might call you ladybug or peapod or snapdragon, but not wind dog. Never wind dog.
If I gave you a white carnation, I might dress up in tiger stripes so you wouldn’t see the stripes of regret lining the petals of this, our incarnation.
If I gave you a white carnation, I might want you to know I love you very much. I might tell you forests are intended to burn, will alight spontaneously without so much as a spark.
If I gave you a while carnation, I might tell you every city has different faces and if you want to be a nude model and take pills and drink whiskey without supervision, I might still respect you.
Megan Dart is the co-artistic producer for Catch the Keys Productions, a playwright and a media and communications specialist. Follow her company on Twitter: @CatchtheKeys











