how beautiful the air when it shifts
after all the road signs have zipped by
the mile markers counted
and when i get there
the outline of lake shores
the calling of time gone
spent surrounded by wooden porches
the nights i chased fireflies
and fashioned myself a ring that sparkled in the night
the tight comfort of tucked sheets
and faded paper on the wall
the wicked witch securely locked away
i have flown there in my dreams
to watch myself washed in the foamy water
and dried with white cotton
my feet scrubbed as clean as the cup from which I drank
it was just before i sank
i went south and the heat overwhelmed me
a history past
so fast that i wonder if it was true
the tiny figure of myself peering through cedar framed windows
i pretended i was asleep
a game i still play - my secret occupation
and no one knows but me
me and the two i wrote about in my diary
Rachelle LeCount
11-11-11
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