What’s around this corner that’s halfway between you and me.
Sandals scuff the concrete on their way to the sideways precipice.
Discordant thoughts ricochet off the side of my skull to the building beside.
I worry the winds do not waft, but are violent tornadoes hurling me into a
clamorous vortex, bulldozing me into an Oz where the wicked witch rules.
Closer now, I hope it’s a bloodless garden, full of placid leaves, flowers stained
iridescent and hushed grass upon which we can lay together and rest.
LKT © 2015