Acid in my Lunchbox

I remember standing there

With the Giant Sea

And the Watercolor Sun.

My heart rattled like a broken maraca 

That fateful day when the sky looked

Like something Van Gogh would’ve painted

And two deer, a buck and a doe,

Nuzzled each other in front of me,

A squeeze of my hand 

Reminded me of Michigan

Of beach grass jungles

And sticks-made-swords

And the sound of you

Nearly inaudible inside of me.

God was a soap bubble that popped

In my brain

While the waist-high lake

Gargled and said,

The anemone of my anemone is my friend.

You were a fast fall down a steep dune,

I might have fallen on my butt 

If you hadn’t been there,

But you were the distant water gleaming

In the sun.

You were the pillows of warm sand beneath my feet;

The sail boat

That looked like a snaggle tooth

On the horizon;

The crunchy peanut butter and strawberry jelly

In my sandwich;

The acid in my lunchbox;
The twinkle of forests I once camped in.
You were the vivid image in my head
Of some electric eccentric paradise

Some desert mirage on a hot beach;

Some kid’s laughter,

And another kid’s sand castle.

You were the wind in my curls

And the song in my step.

And you are still with me.

The warmth in my sleeping bag,

The giggle on a river,

The silly groan of old stinky pups,

The crunch of dying leaves

Beneath my flat feet,

The yoo-hoo of six forest sprites 

Whose purple wings

Glow green in all my photos.

You are, if my hunch is correct,

The chip on my shoulder,

The biscuit in my tea,

The cow sniffing my shoes.

And you are the waterfall,

And you are the campfire,

And you are the pinecone,

And you are the air.

And most of the time,

I forget you’re even there.

But I remember now.

I remember you.

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