Change for a Dollar

I spend the morning cleaning the presupposed mold off my long-lost hairclips with the last of the rubbing alcohol. It is the after-weekend, complete with an early sun, an empty bag of coffee, and a pocketful of possibilities. Green and gold is the sunshine and sparkling blue is the air. The acoustic version of life accompanies speeding thought that I strive to slow. As I savor the salt of a last-day-of-the-month, I let my mind skip stones across the frozen world of a day in the snow-filled streets of Turkey. Paper-thin and black-and-white am I. I am the remnant of a remnant. Like the naked belly of a lizard on the screen door - Exposed. But I bandage my aching toes all the same.

I spend the afternoon pondering how much of a life you can fit in a zippered bag. Or should you set it all aside and float around bagless - thingless - shoeless. With imaginary books and whistled melodies, alone and untrammeled. Thoughts become clothes, and love becomes food. But soon the starving gasps alone push you back to the everything. 

And now the sun sinks behind my eyes as they look on the house on the hillside glinting gold from the dying day. Heaven is behing the gleaming clouds high above the crooked streets of this old town. Heaven is blind and blinding with eyelashed holes called stars. But we of the salamander toes and mosquito wings cling and buzz in the shortest of atmospheres. We are the ones with the purple crayon, making up the world as we go along in our PJs.