justwrite 21 september

nothing to do with something to what with the answers are all squared the traffic has to imagine its own stand in hand feeling bad for the glad hands the pickles tickling the ivory feet the slippers whispering wildly the baby eyes disguising the skies as blimps limping down the hallway the dolls crazed in their lazy circles the working week deep enough to dive into to thrive over all the way around the town the upside down elevator from the west the best of times crying out for limes and aid and the fading footsteps have leapt the building i am feeling my way outward the words have heard their answers lifted up and above ready to roll with the numbers fleeing from the refugees the squeezing of lemons the walls have fences and the mention of a cabin sends us grabbing for the remote having hoped for another chance to dance into leaves to squish the juice from a loosetooth smile the wild happiness of a blueberry smeared across the sky