stranger than I've ever
seen. The years fly by as magnetic
flies sticking to the window screen. I close
my eyes and pretend it's all a dream. I shun

this dream under restless
pillows. My head heaves in heavy
billows. The emerald green has turned
to rust. The men are lean and filled

with lust. Every turn of the calendar
brings with it more lies. Every year erases
more and more ties.  This world is flat. I fell off
the horizon. Men travel in herds just like

the bison. Now my days are floating
on clouds in skies of marmalade. My wings
providing me the shade. And balk as men clang
and wade catching up on hit parades.