Surreal Reality
On a summer night I was stocked by a Velveteen Rabbit,
with the state I was in it seemed so real.
I walked along the grass and heard the sunset
sizzle in the river at high noon, all my senses riveted
while sitting on the floor of a used book store in a futile effort
to make pictures appear in 3D much like life on a good day.
I bought a novel about an Oracle in hopes of divining the future.
The cloudy morning shrouded the Three Sisters.
I walked the mountain path, drank in nature, a rabbit
in a blue vest looked so surreal.
Negative shades are a form of nothingness like
an old man with a brown cap clasping the steering wheel
aimlessly driving a traffic circle
counter clockwise,
always approaching never reaching his destination
until he uncoils and reads a bed time story to his sleepy
grandson about a Velveteen
Rabbit,
as mother stands hidden by the door, a tear falls to the carpet.
With the state I was in it seemed so real.
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