Symphony-In-Our-Life

as in, a medley of flashes and bits of nighttime wonder Here and there (There, too) giant birds with four wings Let me ride you, red lockers stack up higher and inside what are you offering me bottles of cultured milk strangled in clear plastic rip me open; soft soft like fleece that sweet feeling and the backwards baseball cap, he asks, where is she, and no- one answers, although everyone hears, because no-one knows. and the cough sends little ripples through the air that touch my consciousness, a taste so vile i must spit it out, splatters like paint, like blood, but neatly, like the lines of my journal. and you say you have found