Because
he was never able
to sketch them—
and besides,
he'd always preferred
to pluck
them anyway—
to sever
the tether
of every last
immaculate wild-
flower in the garden;
then, he could
simply
methodically re-appropriate
all of their
dead little traces
of delicate mauvewhite fairness
in order
to slightly enhance
the net-exquisiteness
of a certain
fellow creature
he'd met recently
whom he
doubtless respected
and adored absolutely,
but whom—logic
would nevertheless
force him to conclude,
could basically always
use
a little boost.