A songbird’s idea of refusal quavered, gunking up reality with music. The sky adieused the end times with memories of future blood. My appetites or yours, hon?, said no one to nothing.
Misled by lopsided horse clouds, the window was declared the new expanse. Office parties smelling of last century drifted in and dispersed. Life became a series of toes recalibrating the atmosphere through boredom and smoke
Still, fear battered the dust mites awake. What used to be my country raptured the horizon’s teeth— ecstatic options sprinkling emotions in the mix, hastening the return of reality as 89.3 percent dream.