Friday, March 25, 2011

That Awful Spring

That Awful Spring

I remember that awful spring
when everything seemed too large
or too small
and I would forget
what some of the objects
were for.

Everything seemed alive then,
the chairs,
the tables,
even the cars
and every record I played
sounded like the soundtrack
to my dreams.

Every flower seemed so swollen
with it’s own color,
I thought it would burst
and a stream of orange or purple
would snake slowly
upward.

©JEF 1986

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