It’s like breathing rain when you’re in a hurry to catch the bus, and you can’t stop picking the daffodils as they fall from your fingers, as if it mattered anyway.
It’s like singing songs that are supposed to be whistled, but you can’t bother with the details.
It’s like forgetting your fedora on a walk in the park, and twisting your hair around your little finger after discovering the ocean.
It’s like tossing tissue paper on the ground, and not caring where it lands, even if it’s in the sand.
It’s like running your hands along metal to feel the electricity apparent, only to be showered in petals.
It’s like scurrying in the darkness, hoping to be caught by your true love.
It’s like sweeping the sidewalk of volcanic ashes, right before being struck by lightning.
It’s like shuffling a deck of cards and coming up with the queen of spades every time, although for some reason she looks like your eighth grade math teacher and is wearing the same glasses and a bun.
It’s like typing forgotten words in a language you don’t know, in an alphabet that never existed, on a letter that won’t be sent.
It’s like flying on a penguin’s back through a pink cloudless sky at midnight, eating toffees and cherry-flavored jelly beans.
It’s like writing nonsense,
as if you were the Mad Hatter at Alice’s tea party.
