twisters, lots of them.

wood reminds me of oceans

keeps my mind

full of floating flotsam,

balloons.

a birthday happened,

while i was gone.

and only i 

would brave the state of bitter licorice 

and swallow it all

it make me 

laugh

instead of cry

and speak aloud with eyes closed

instead of dream

bizarre

bizarre

Another shallow gene pool

pronounced dream pool

 in our eyes

child kites we fly

and empty our stories into fires

winter demanded our

unfocussed attention 

and unintentional lies

hustled  and hurtled 

out of any twice dipped fondue pot city.