She slept in a bed filled with goat men
Limbs tangled into an anthropomorphic blob
Their soft tuffs of fur and faint bleating lulled her to sleep
only to be tossed out with one swift kick
She had grown accustomed to the bruises and shedding
Dryads living in the box plants
spun ivory webs around her bare skin
The sirens insisted they bathe her
she opted for a centaur rosewood oil massage
Outside the giants were harvesting
bleeding pomegranates
honeysuckle nectar
sacred lotus root
She walked past it all until she reached the car
Hermes had glued gold feathers onto her shoes
Her change of clothes were covered in opalescent dust
She cleaned them off and drove away
He waited for her in the coffee shop
Chatted over poppy seed bagels and sweet tea
He never questioned the glitter on her face
dark curls of hair in her sweater
or why she never took him home
He would never believe
no matter how much she wished he could