half the way to what?
The order of my dreams is coming unglued. I’m not sure if I was in the plane buzzing the tree tops with some older woman and man first. Or if I was in the desert with ***s saying, so you bought a trailer?
There must be a waxing crescent somewhere.
But I haven’t seen it.
Crest of the waking moon.
Finally beginning to balm up.
Yesterday so mild. Sweet misty morning. On my afternoon coffee walk I happened upon that exploded car. Hood mangled and charred, windshield smashed.
Now I’m too sticky far from my dreams to remember. Something like a basket or a net plunges into the water and pulls nothing up.
What do you call that little net you use to yank the goldfish out of their tank at the store. Or when you need to clean the bowl. We lost so many fish that way.
