by Mara L.

pearl grey sky and twice as cold

kicked the sun out an hour ago.

me in a muted green chair

like big hairy baby

tucked into a peapod costume for an anne geddes calander: april.

it’s october now, and i’m sitting here, writing

wishing this was a letter to every friend i have

Wishing so hard my blood warms.

the letter, direct, bold and driven as the asphalt roads in the Southwest.

The cars are stars

That drive across the sky

In my balloon

I reach the moon

That lights me from on high

Then up I float

In my magic boat

Across the cloudy sea

And fly my kite

In the velvet night

Gently flying free.