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funny where the mind goes when it isn't consciously thinking about where.... |
1st prize in
I search and search for a red, down, quilted vest-- to find deep, burrowing pockets--- a zipper, not snaps. Red-- firewarmth. Ecstatic journeys by jeep. Flame of scarlet midst char black trees, ash white snow. Return to junkyard parking lots to coat racks lined with discarded dreams and dungaree jackets, old backstage passes and memories, mismatched gloves and glories. Sockfoot I stretch, arch, reach, grasp then curl up in my chair by the fire warming hands and heart around a mug of fresh coffee: the siamese cat of me still climbing trees in the forest. |