My Imaginary Forest

When I wake up, before I remember

my life, sometimes I can pretend

I live in the imaginary forest.

The traffic is rushing water

and from my pillow view

out the sliding glass door

everything is green,

like I live in a treehouse over a brook.

On Sunday I was at the coffee shop when Puhg texted

they cut it down, the bright one,

the one the pair of hummingbirds live in.

As I crossed the street back I saw two men in vests and goggles

and a pile of dust and a mound of dirt.

I asked what happened, they said landscaping.

I said no one told us, they seemed sorry.

I asked if there were more coming down and they pointed to another.

We need it, I said. It’s true, we do. All summer we cook

against that wall.

No one in the building has bedroom AC.

I went upstairs, frantically paced around.

I went on the balcony to watch as they prepared another slaughter.

I opened my email to find the property manager’s contact information,

not fast enough. They were whirring the chainsaws.

I ran down again and pleaded,

who can I talk to? There’s been a mistake.

One guy said, I know, I know. He pointed me to his boss,

down the sidewalk. I rushed over.

I live beside the tree, I told him.

He didn’t need this. Not in the rain. Not on a Sunday.

He said call the building manager, so I did immediately.

He rolled his eyes and said we should just walk over.

So we did. Poor M___, grey haired and tired,

she was spooked to see us.

The guy said I need to talk to someone

about the last tree. M___ called the owner,

explained there is a tenant, upset, tree reasons.

I could hear the owner’s annoyance over the phone,

“I don’t work Sundays,” she said.

M__ said, “Neither do I.”

Neither do I, I wanted to hiss. But you didn’t think about that when you sent a bunch of men and metal to my window at 8 AM, did you!?

M___ gave me a shrug. So I leaned over,

close as I could to the phone, and said—

That tree is not coming down. I am hugging the tree!

The tree guy threw up his hands and walked off.

Owner grumpily said they could do a call tomorrow.

M___ mumbled maybe it would work out.

I huffed back out into the rain. Tree guy approached me.

He said, How about this? We just trim the tree?

Yes! I said. Yes! I made him promise, he laughed and said,

I promise, I promise.

I sat inside at the the balcony door, peeking at the guy up there.

He kept his word, only trimming.

Why didn’t they just trim your friends? I asked her, telepathically.

I made a batch of cookies for the trio in orange vests.

A thank you. But I also left my number

on a Post-It. Maybe they’d tell me

if something bad was going to happen later.

I tried to calm down and have a “rest of the day.”

But the next morning I woke up

and saw the skyline instead of leaves

and cried and cried and cried.

Later, when I was at the cafe, I got a text

from a number I didn’t know.

“Hi Alice. This is Paolo the tree guy. I just wanna thank you for the treats. It was good. You are awesome thank you??”

“Hi Paulo! Thank you so much for helping me save that tree! I love that tree.”

“I can tell you love that tree have a wonderful day”