Glance

Endless umbrellas floating in
the sky catching the light to
swallow into colorful bowels.
A wedge of light made it here.

Past the blues I made it through
and into seas of green that threatened
to stop me. Reds mixed with
yellows to give me everlasting summer.

The rooms my heart is hollowed with
house many stories that, like weeds
or gardens, can contort the appearance
of my purpose in ways I can’t explain.

Ask me what I think and I can’t
answer better than this: I see boats in the
treetops, and cloaks on the highway.
I see outer space ticking, and oceans of color.

My head swells with fanciful imagery
that sometimes include you.
My visions are dreams, but
does that make you a dream?

Angels flying low over fields of yellow,
and sunsets mingling with planets on the
horizon. Windmills on clouds, and
subterranean children diving to crystal caverns.

Then there’s us, and this car.
There’s the road, my job, my life,
and more bills than I care about.
Touch my hand if you exist.