I thought I had something to write, but instead I'm buzzing strangely as if I'm a conduit for all the lost currents in the air, the static electricity.
I yearn to untangle.
My insides are a coil of jumper cables and perhaps I'll take up yoga, And then I will write such a story that the whole world will read it and weep. And the whole world will be that one guy who rows the gondola boat in City Park because I will have left it by the dock. And the story will weigh more than the factory which made the pen,and all the people will line up to purchase their rides. To sit in his boat and glide on the water and hear him tell the story again and again,
And their tears will fill the lake.
Iris Palmais the nom de plume of a part-time poet who otherwise wishes to remain anonymous.