the dream of wheat
Sinking barren fields of gold, upside down like a sky of amber. Aero
planes become like ancient mosquitos, and how they do suck the blood from
our thighs, too bad they don’t serve fried chicken on American Airlines
otherwise we’d never leave the sky.
But I wasn’t talking about the sky. Skid a stone on flat water, ripples
rip the fabric of your jeans. Pull away at the strings until you cause protons
and atoms to smash, making a very big mess called the universe.
I ate a bag of wheat for dinner and tonight, I plan on having some wild
dreams.
24