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Or Not? We'll See
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Unpublished pieces If and when I awake again,
I might dial your number.
Or not?
We'll see.
Licking salted potatoe chips.
Drinking pickle juice.
Both are my metaphoric way
to define your
purpose in
my life.
When the cat purrs like liquid paper,
and the zebras flash like
hologram images.
We shall see what we shall see.
And in regards to you it
may depend on the
night glasses
stuck upon
my face.
Grinding is the answer to so many
unasked questions.
Just grind and not mind
the chocolate souffle that
grovels like a train
off its track.
If and when I awake again,
I might dial your number.
Or not?
We'll see.
