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Fantasy From a Small Window
Air’s rarified up here
icicles shiver on scratched window
far below, dinosaur skin resolves
itself. I see folds of mountain range,
hairline tapeworm fracture wends
between the wrinkled trails
into a blue unwinking eye. Under
casual thrown blanket
Your absent minded hand touches my leg,
must be by mistake
Cyclops moves from left to right
more thin strokes appear, crisscross
the surface, fingernails tracing
patterns as sky lightens
becoming clearer like
Something out of a fantasy
materializing in a dawning of realization
mountain purple dissolving into
green so steady, unzipping into
valleys and clusters of something
deliberate, dwellings perhaps, fields,
brushstrokes of an artist’s hand
Confident. Down there streams
conjoin into a broader river
swelling now in size and thickness
across the landscape and suddenly
the sun appears over the horizon
a ball of flame exploding me,
the river, the houses, the fields
into blinding flying fragments
Abrupt as it began, its all over
we fasten seatbelts pull our
seats upright, prepare for landing
embarrassed a little I trundle
my suitcase past customs
no one glances at me. I look
around you’ve disappeared
as if you never were
I didn’t even ask your name
© Johnmichael Simon
2008
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