The Symphonic Jangle of Childhood Keys
Today and most likely tomorrow I feel like Zelda Fitzgerald splayed in Absinthe defeat no beneath a beach umbrella that looks like a just sprouted daisy planted like a moon flag in the lunar beach surface of the Riviera. In these times of sorrow when the earth and my country no longer feel welcoming or safe I board a waiting steampunk rocket ship, the kind that Jules Verne once imagined which sits on a launchpad at the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences… aimed at the infinity of quivering stars which between you and me, are secret way stations where everyone we ache to hold waits for us to come home. like our moms and dads… who once upon a time stared through a night wintered window in the grief-stricken hours past midnight until they heard the symphonic jangle of our childhood keys and breathed because they loved us that much.
