not…alone

the pineapple stand is gone and three more tents sprouted last night she she she with two elders coughing i float above the tar but every now and again there in the crack on the corner near where the ancient fault line is grows a dandelion an astronomical seven inches tall i know he answers little girl you got a quarter you like the flower the rain gutter waters it see drip drip i see sir here is a bottle of water and a gift card to Quiznos all i can spare oh no i need money oh God bless you child anyway you too sir then the dream turns harsh cloudy i can’t get to my car and the wheelchair i’m trapped in gets hit by a truck the spine snaps i wake screaming my neck gets caught on a ring of Saturn i’ve grown accustomed to my good fortunes heart thumping i look at my hands in the dark no one’s there so i hug on tightly to the blessing in my dream

SoCS badge by Pamela, at https://achronicalofhope.com/

6 thoughts on “not…alone

    • No doubt I write from somewhere. I have to type I can’t write with pens or think things through my thoughts can become very impulsive and I just gotta type fling words around like how J Pollock painted. At times it can get agonizing. Thanks for reading Charlie.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yes. I like your answer. One must type right then and there to release what our heart and vision is making us feel or see.

        Any idea that storms our minds we must write it down right away otherwise we lose it.

        You are welcome my friend.

        P.S I posted 2 poems, one this Monday and a new one today. They’re experimentally weird. I used the ‘Cut up Technique’. You’ll enjoy them and the words.

        Liked by 1 person

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