Swimming with Unicorns

Worry Land

A circuit of doubt, a dangling stream of

wire and battling ribbons. This road is painful

and familiar.  All the road signs say:

“You made this mistake before”

You are ever looking for some type of exit, and when

you find it you only arrive a a room that takes you to the same

circular freeway with no remaining exits.  A cracked sink, a chipped tooth,

a bended fender.  This marauding band of damages has come to

devour your vacation plans and savings.  There is always next year in

the event that you believe in sea change.  Or do you strap a horn on the

seahorse to make you believe you are swimming in unicorns?  You flash

on the memory of your Uncle Harvey stretched out on the orange and rust blades

of carpet trying to make sense of Jonathan Livingston Seagull.  Your peer ou

of the only porthole in the room to watch crows forming a less than

perfectly symmetrical v-pattern, and then they correct the gap until

creating a straight line.  Exacting precision. communicated through

docile imitation.  Exiting with the flock, the wave, the thought of

tiny bombs in the cracked and chipped teacup bleeding into the saucer.


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