Strawberries
I dreamed that strawberries were $1 each. Too much. I put them back. Back. I wanted to go back. We were on a familiar country road, mom. You and I. The breeze was perfect, you were beautiful as always, the strawberries were strawberry-red. And I ran down that road, trying to go back, getting nowhere, strawberryless.
04.07.10
My hand is shaking, dry, some vague shade of brown. Like a leaf. The wind, the world is swirling. I'm not sure how tightly I'm holding on. Enough to watch earth-colors spinning round me.
Oh, life! Why must everything be so intense and colorful and terrible and wild? I feel it. That life-energy beats inside me; I don't know what to do with it. So my hands shake, my spirit quakes with mystery and being and life. Does anyone else feel this way?
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