Free Writing Inspired By The Memory Of What May Have Been Love

Quick put your fingers around mine and I’ll show you across this dusty field. Step over the barbed wire here and hey! Marshmallows!

Stop hey there’s something under the pillow. What? A key? Don’t even try to make that joke. Please.

Soap got in my eyes from the great car wash in the sky, perhaps you had your jacket cleaned there? So that’s why I can’t see to well right now, and maybe your pinky toenail too.

Love is like LSD I declare, where rhyme might happen or you fall down to be caught up again in subsequent tree swings.