I make a right turn down Condor Avenue with my shoulders held high near my exposed neck and my hands shoved deep into my pockets.
begging to be noticed,
prying open the shutters and flying through empty space,
caresses each pond, composing ripples of all sizes,
Six apples in front of my eyes
Waiting for their greater purpose
Each painted a deep, glossy red, reminding me of the perfume that sits on my desk
hanging from the trees,
some may fall,
right from their leaves
exposed and naked in the summer heat,
when suddenly arrive the sound of feet,
product of a plump chimpanzee,
When I woke up, it took me a second to realize that I was not in my own bed, but in an airplane over the sea. This is quite ironic, I think to myself as I hum the tune I previously had stuck in my head.
She dreamed of someone who couldn’t quite be placed
Someone who had the power to, if even just for a moment, make her world of gray appear green
Plentiful with life and flowers of every color
blows in more snow,
from frozen elsewhere.
There is a storm
inside the silent rage
of the storm,
inside God’s eye,