My head on a seahorse pillow
It yawns blue in the evening’s lavender hour
Minutes slipping by knocking as marbles
A knot in my cheek
Reminding me that

Dreams come and go
And some reflect
The aquamarine underworld
Of lingering turtles

Gingerly laced with limber movement
I whisper listlessly to the droning traffic
And the cat glows while she pushes my buttons

I sit on my mat
With my hands on my knees
And contemplate the moon
In its meanders

I hold its roundness in my presence
And sigh for the mystery
That lies beyond the echo
Of a seashell

The calling of the wind and sand shouts sailboat
My horizon is the bridge over the highway
Mountain ghosts come out seldom these days
Peach glow and apparitions

I wander while the world squanders
Finagling a fingerling possibility
A diaphanous feline existence
Motivated by footprints, teacups, mint leaves…
The knowledge that contradiction is the shortest way to truth