maryj

I had a dream about tulips.

I sat beside the recluse to defy normality; her recluse. Perusing past. The knows and hows, the nos and wows. I gave her my smile as if it were an offering from something greater. A colorful baked good welcoming a colorfully baked, good neighbor. 4th grade colored pencil drawings on shoulda been math homework looseleafs hung on her mother's fridge. I looked at her when they looked away because I knew the most important piece of history my mother so historically placed in me. That we are all just similes; metaphors waiting for our like or as. We are all just raindrops, sporadically placed, strategically traced. In this world with far too many baked goods and not enough metaphors. Far too many raindrops and not enough tulips. Because there are tulips in this world, and people. Tulips dreaming of tulips, people, dreaming of people. People falling and failing and loving and living, dreaming of tulips.