Days of fur and daisies

Sasquatch picked his teeth

with the raw milk sign

– it was very rebel-without-a-cause

 

Pickets were peeling

white flecks like summer snow

while phantom footsteps lurched

toward the lake road

 

I twisted the apple stem as hard as I could

to make the letters of your name

because my chin wouldn’t turn yellow

and I didn’t want to dismember a daisy

 

A lavender leviathan ate the day

so we chased clouds until sunset,

at least in my dream

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