we all occasionally stumble upon
those slices of good luck
when spinach turns to French fries
headgasm Saturday afternoons
any other day of the week
mild enough in winter
for honey garlic barbecue
Mother Goose come to roost
amid the eleven o’clock news

hankering us back to childhood
when bananas sung as chocolate
Christmas truly Santa Claus
and the only thing to fear
lay trembling under our beds
a recollection of the kids
we’d raise ourselves to adults
fear factors left behind
the winning that losing can bring

do you feel it now? do you see it?
fireflies inside a pickle jar
biological clocks turned to cinnamon taffy
burning schoolhouse out by twelve am
stars the same as when
we first gazed upon them
innocent of supernovae
the Milky Way rotating sans fatigue

there’s a river flowing backward
between the cola dusk
potato chip dawn
refreshing Peter Pan inertia
Wendy selves
for the ladies young at heart
the lost boys have dismantled
the alarms of our digital clock radios
Tinker Bell is tinkering
with Led Zeppelin power chords

© 2002

830 hits as of April 2024

11/23/2018