There are no clear transitions it’s all abrupt
ly different and yet there is a constancy about it too that offers fleeting but increasingly recurring comfort.
I keep looking for a bookmark, though.
I have been reading so much in the lines and/between/but it’s playtime.
Stop, but go just once forever. Go two, go three.
I don’t want off but I want to see.
The merry-go-round is spinning slow it down I just need a glimpse does it always have to be spinning
in a circle?
I jumped off and crawled into the shade. I am flat on my back under the merry-go-round, and looking up now it is still
Playground shade in the summer is like a dream without a timepiece of time and I can turn the page into yet another metaphor,
my meta for beauty . . .