Bee Balm (Lenore) 

I am in a bedroom and I say hello to an older man thin with a scratchy beard and disheveled hair. I am on one side of the bed near the door and he is on the other. I am talking about how it’s spring and he must be working on his  plants. He has a plant in a pot on the bed (unmade bed with a few other things on it) and then he’s holding it. He says it is bee balm and it’s very fragrant. I come over and touch the plant and smell it. Smells good. And I look at the leaf and I think it’s in the strawberry family. But he says it’s that it is its own family. He says he has not been doing so much because of the move. And I say yes it’s so exhausting to move and it takes time to recover. I don’t know him very well. I see in the corner of the room some more small plants. The room is crowded, messy. I loved looking at the plant in a small pot on the bed. It had big leaves. The older man kind of cocked his head to the side and his eyes look a little scary, like he was back roads poor. He looks like he has had a hard life and it has taken its toll.