good fortune

the view is aerial. you’re flying. on a train, through the sky. clickity-clack-zoom-zoom. you land in a place called texas but you swear the sign said “welcome armadillo”. either way it’s your family who greets you at the bus stop. or rather people who look like your family but don’t behave like them. when you arrive in their pristine home you remember why you’ve traveled all this way: the seed! you have to bring it back to your daughter. you start ripping through drawers, pulling up rugs, flipping trash cans. eureka, that’s it! scritch-scratching your way across the top of an unfinished kitchen cabinet, your hand hits a dusty, empty bourbon bottle. skittering to the edge, it wobbles and then falls, shattering at your feet as you step back. a dark brown buckeye spins like a top amidst the thick, splintered glass.

this is my riff on a dream poem ~ there’s some truth here and just enough nonsense you leave you wondering..

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