I failed to light the candle and the match burnt down to the end and singed my skin.
The key broke in the keyhole and the dogs walked backwards, tails down.
I buttered a bagel without toasting it first and the dough clung like glue to the roof of my mouth.
I walked up the descending escalator.
Tried on shirts and ties in the mens department.
Drank brandies at noon in a small café.
Talked with strangers about intimate things, huddled like conspirators in dark corners.
I walked barefoot in the snow leaving a trail of red hearts behind and scattered zig-zag style crazy scrawls of words written in reverse; EVOL, ECAEP, RAEF.
I could have kept on going but my fingers grew too long and clumsy and I forgot how to spell words that mattered.
A tall man who resembled a T with a broad hat called my name; YRAM, YRAM! He beckoned me with hands shaped like an X mixed with Y.
I ran away, crossed an orange river that ended in a purple field full of letters.
The letters grew abundantly like wild flowers for me to arrange, make sense of or do whatever I chose to do with them.
I lay down amidst the wealth of letters and closed my eyes.
Soon the letters stole closer to me and silently spread themselves across my hair and rested lightly on my skin, beneath my nails, in my ears and up my nostrils until I began to feel how amazing it would be to be an actual word;
and I knew that some euphoria was about to occur almost like a vowel copulating with a consonant would feel, only to produce a desire for more. A constant hunger for more.
copyright; mary p. wilkinson 2012