honeydunce

Successful hand transplants. Do the veins and nerves ask each other to dance? Do they tangle like tree roots, fire their guns into the other’s shins & lapse into tango for life?

My coat attracts snow flakes, stellar dendrites on my shoulders and sectored plates up the nose and on the lips as I walk from the bus to the house. I push my hand into the pile of it growing on the car hood. Sometimes I like winter I guess.

While crossing a street I imagine falling again. Why do I do this so much? Imagine falling and then various scenarios trip wired in the wake. A car can’t make the turn, no one feels obligated to help me up. Imagine laying there, cheek in a pothole. How much of the world would that change?

I am pretty sure that everyone in my office loves salt water taffy. Whenever a coworker goes on vacation, a box of it appears in the common area. The packaging is always my favorite part.

I really love Danielle Pafunda’s work.

One of my goals for the year is to see the ocean. It’s been so long. Much too long.

The bowling alley makes a solid shirley temple. Although I don’t understand their latest furniture additions. And the women’s room, all red. Even the toilet tank covers in their shaggy carpet glory were a deep shade of it. Was I in the restroom, a capillary?

Another metaphor of the migraine–beetle in a bug collection, false bottomed cigar box and pinned with still twitching appendages. Giant with thumb pressed against a leaf playing dead in the wind.