put me on a porch

like a plant and let

me soak up the sun.


put me back in the

pines like when we

were young and played


with parallel universes:

taking the arched elevator

to whichever floor we desired,


trying to catch the

leaves and the liars before

mom called us back.


what was that?


that was living. that

was real, and imagination,

together; both the


source, and the

destination. some-

times you want to go


back, and other times

you want to spin forward—

but really they are the


same parallel thing.



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