Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Chasing dreams is what we do here. We wake up with strawberry on our tongue, soon forgotten. The flavor never touches the tongue. Chase the dream and root it out. Lick everything. Lick paintings because they are red. Lick music because it has the ephemeral nature of a dream. Lick books for they fit in your palm like strawberries do in a bunch. Taste and see until you have plucked the right flavor from the pages of the cuckoo's egg that holds inside it the hologram, the closest representative, the distant cousin of the strawberry you dreamed. It came so close to your lips you knew how sweet and dark and full of juice. All through the dream you chase it. In the dream you've almost won. It's in the lovers palm. It's held out to you.but before you can taste it, it is gone. Awake, craving strawberries. Craving. Licking everything that touches the place in your mind where you can harvest them.

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