a giant among fairies
Sunday, March 17th, 2013Mischief maker, clad
in red or green, uses pot
of gold to redeem.
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Mischief maker, clad
in red or green, uses pot
of gold to redeem.
• • •
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Miles of soldiers lined
the highway, praying no crash
would send them flying.
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Beware the random
day, said the soothsayer. At
dusk, our hopes faded.
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Apple, cherry, Key
lime, chocolate, pecan, chess,
lemon icebox, peach.
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What happened to the
lights? Murmuring, nervous laughs.
Sudden brightness stuns.
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A dull tickle grows
into unmanageable
migraine misery.
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We are not meant for
reading minds. We barely grasp
our own twisted thoughts.
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Peering from the roof
ledge, woozy from the great height,
unable to move.
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The in crowd wasn’t
seeking members, nor was it
trying to shun them.
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They all kept journals
of their deepest secrets while
waiting for big breaks.
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There’s a day for love
and grandparents and groundhogs,
but not for daring.
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The hallways echo
long after last bell with the
footfalls of stragglers.
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Ebooks hide out of
eyesight. Too much to read, yet
no stacks to cherish.
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If everyone could
fly, we would chat and floss at
30,000 feet.
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We know what we know,
no more, no less. Open eyes
to know more, no less.
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