early morning
   was a puddle
   of fog.

at the café his eggs stared back at him
like a pair of golden tadpoles.

when no one was looking
he set his dark glasses
atop the yokes
and snapped a photograph
with his cellphone.

his first selfie.

he flew to Denmark
with a bag of ideas.
the plane was a year late
causing him to forget his name.
the museum was smaller
than expected and capable
of rolling away.

“it this the place?”
“yes,” they said.

his only option was cubism
which he did not understand.
a woman pointed at a cloud.
“a homecoming parade,” she laughed.

the best restaurant in the world
was down the street.
he made a reservation for the year 2075.
he wasn’t sure about cuisine
but had time to ****.

at the intersection he went the wrong way
and had to use an idea to get out

of the story.

Over the ****

in a previous life. i was a camel driver.
this was learned during a Tarot card reading.
that set me back $10.

would you pay ten dollars to find out you
were a camel driver in a previous life?  
of course you would.

the last time i met a camel. it spit on my shoes.
why would it do that?

good question. for my next reading.

Looking East

she looked east
and saw the sun
burning a hole
in the pavement.
her time was
almost up. too
late for revisions.
she heard the wind
laughing. soft voices.
neighbors clinking
glasses. clouds
passing. the only
hope the nature
of time. its open
invitation. and not
knowing.

the not knowing.
that was it.