Losing the Octopus

The elf was wearing brown shoes. A dense feather in his cap. As if toys are made. Not found. As they always are. The winter squandered. The snowmen dissolved. She told herself the puddle was sufficient reminder. Of all that was gone. She was lying. As she was given to do. When kites were to be flown. In meager winds.

The earth was negoiating its revolutions around the sun. With its usual arrogance. She bribed it with a glance. At the sun. She put it to bed. With bland stories of resolve. To save ourselves.

She knows the earth is so much water for a reason. Cause none of us can really swim. We've been drowning so long. It feels like floating. She knows. Words are the last refuge of the insignificant. I can't remember and I don't expect. Anyone would want to.

Shall I open the portal. Tempt the tears in the continuum. Change the timeline. Erase us.

Shall I shove the doll into its plastic shoes. Try on each alien. As if we'll remember having met. Go back. Turn that heavy wheel. On islands that won't let us leave. Live as if the only world is this. Die knowing it isn't true.

When I go there I come back different. I don't know what is missing. But whatever it is. I want it.