An army of square lights on the ceiling. My destiny is sandwich with no filling. Two thin slices. Side-by-side. Both white. I've longed to taste tapas my whole life. Even to dip my bread in egg would suffice.
Well, Christ, I'll take a trip to the bakery! A crusty loaf would remain in the teeth and granary could easily plant a seed.
En route in the street, I spot a biblical treat. It's a mouthful from the Mahershalalhashbaz company. They rebranded after a decade selling acclaimed hand-made paintings. In dense writing was their message to me...
Immerse my head in the still night air of June, where the moonlight is hidden behind a tree.
Poem #19 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. On the subject of pseudonyms and stage names. Inspired by Mahershala Ali.