Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Like a Mouse

I see the mother of one of my friends in my dreams
Rearranging thrift shop antiques in the crannies
of a giant old house on college row
The kind partitioned into a labyrinth of dorms
I'm always getting lost in a twisty attic
Equiped with an "Alice in Wonderland" hidden door
I always try to catch her
I long to talk to her
I'm moving too slowly
She can't hear me and she leaves
before I can grasp her shoulder

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