running through tunnels between pre-war apartment buildings on the Upper West Side
I am in my attic looking for spoon and fork to put in my kids small backpack
in a tent, on a side of a mountain
an avalanche starts above me
I see a lawnmower running by itself
holding a smiling baby in my lap
a radiant sphere of loving light bursts from my heart embracing the world
a teacher in white stands at the edge of a forest as I lead a group of students into the woods
in a musty rare-book store, a plain white stone finds me, reality wiggles
a mushroom grows out of the back of my right thigh,
through my jeans, and blossoms into a passionflower
I need to get my car fixed
I am in a town I don't know
I am driving in a parking lot and feel paralyzed to pick a parking spot
I float to the second floor clutching a yellow balloon
a tiny, blue bird lying in an open box suddenly takes flight
I kneel at the foot of a mountain in England and offer all of my grief to the earth
I stand on the shoreline of a lake at night
I hold a paper cup to the moon, and it fills with sweat ice
a flying pink rhino passes in the sky
I am wearing a crown, but it is tiny as if made for a doll, sitting squarely on the top of my head
swimming toward the horizon as the sun sets over the lake, my girls beside me
a useless mall map that does not show the inside, only the roads outside