Man with hot pink rain pants 
and a purple sweatshirt on a bike
Brown plastic chair on the eave of a roof facing the sun 
the house with the day bed and art supplies
in the front room forever dusty untouched
grading my overall performance 
with my evil little mind
be simple
water my own flowers
inkling 
fantasy
dream I’m helping my older sister process drugs to sell 
alone at a desk in a room lined with tall shoe racks and old shoes
fist sized colored glass stones all different deep reds and pinks and mints that I’m to crush into powder
I wake up complicit and can’t fall back asleep 
washing my thoughts
hanging them up around the house
over the patio furniture
familiar paradise
one good hand painted sign 
would change everything today
one good poem
One of those digital bees hovering closer and closer to me
Rubbing my eyes till pixels distort and fly in all directions