12.20.20
GARFIELD
premonition or manifestation
I doubt anyone would care to know
today we’re lunacy, and Kismet snuck a ride with La Luna.
Nothing hides here, we give sense to the absurd; painting Grey Gardens color untamed. Ankle length skirts and headscarfs turn wind sails coveting a little skin, “come here, come out now, the water is warm, the game is fun, and drinks are complimentary.”
so it does – tuna cans and stale bread pumpkin the afternoon into night, skin playing up the ankles, knees, thighs. Hair curls Halloweening with lipstick. lipstick and tits. They glue to eyes to keep eyelashes company.
this isn’t just challenging reality, this is playing hopscotch with possibility. Skipping that stone beyond chalk-lines and hitting the back of restrictions’ head. Tell them, tell the they lungs can breath when there’s purr in your lap, and wizards deserve black cats as much as witches do.
like butter. bread, sex, and butters.