falling over the stepping
stones I found my
way back to the purple
drapes however it was
colder than the last visit
the golden glimmer was
very gray maybe it was
the slice of harsh chemicals
that split my senses and made
my eyes water so I reached
for the tissues but knocked
over a sea of child proof caps
that cascaded to the
floor then there was
all sorts of ruined surprises
that I unwrapped too early
because I sometimes like to
get dressed up and pull the ribbon
away from boxes that say they
are for someone else so I shouldn't
try similar to the way I like the word off
limits and wrong similar to the way your doctor would
talk to your therapist after they saw your hair was
wet after surfing your secrets and I
imagined this all while running my whole hand
over the wooden vase that was half
carved and half ancient bark that kept together the
plastic sunflowers which the store promised
would never die and guests would be convinced they were freshly picked
but by a collection of side way glances I finally noticed my favorite spritz of
yellow did not begin and end with the texture of truth so I think I
would rather appreciate the vase and the yellow orange red pink
shapes on the center of my tongue so the shimmer of a clean
stentch can tickle my throat and later beg me to fall
so I can touch my face to the floor allowing the marble to ice my burning cheek
and I will join the child proof party confetti already
waiting and the gray overcast can make it
all alright