Pull String

We were long lost companions that chanced upon fate and took it to the rocks and willows.
Carillons uncurled to form L's.

From the unexpected halls to a rock of hues so brilliantly alive.
My out-of-body experiences showed me your room, yet months later, under the stairs our souls were pulled.
Our collective masters left us there.

Naked in our own fires
Nicotine, sushi
Italian blood cream backyard Buddha with
hydro field buzz,
popsicle induced.

Land marked with an early tide to Cry, Cry Baby.
A Rune's unbroken charm, Gebo flit.
A gull's calling and swan's chasing wing.


Sticking our toes in it all...
Jingling gypsies
Waltzing in the weeping willows,
awakening heroic thinkers.

With a dash of Earl Grey we were licorice fingered prophets driving with the radio locked
to the moment when the breaks lock into 5 lanes backwards.

Fast we fell into the nearly October winds turning about; bringing what we had found from the sea,
curbside, graveside, and from the pockets
of curious salesmen.

©-Sonja J. Johnston 22-Jun-2010