If and when I awake again,
          I might dial your number.
                      Or not?
We'll see.
Licking salted potatoe chips.
Drinking pickle juice.
                   Both are my metaphoric way
                                             to define your
                                           purpose in
                                               my life.
When the cat purrs like liquid paper,
and the zebras flash like
                             hologram images.
We shall see what we shall see.
                And in regards to you it
                          may depend on the
                                     night glasses
                                         stuck upon
                                            my face.
Grinding is the answer to so many
                                         unasked questions.
Just grind and not mind
                        the chocolate souffle that
                                          grovels like a train
                                                    off its track.
   If and when I awake again,
          I might dial your number.
                      Or not?
We'll see.