Dream Pieces

There are eggs in the fridge
By the bacon by the wailing pig
A wall crumbles
My father comes home
Lights a joint and talks about goals
I have none but
That's OK - I can fly
And leap weightless from tree to tree
Who needs goals
I have wing-ed feet
And somewhere far above
And far below
Sprites and elves and fairies ply
Their trades of make-believe
While in between
Pieces of my dreams converge
Then scatter screaming -

Life isn't what it seems.
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Copyright 2011.01.17