Wotcher
There’s a moment when the morning sun
makes everything look like clean white paper
The shiso, the beautiful truck, the street,
my hands, the blades of grass
Clover and blueberry nestle together in a pot of interesting river stones
And another moment comes
when it all yellows like old film
then surges with
large pink bokeh dots
In all the pristine lines
breaths of air caress me
The garbage truck noises get further away
My stomach twists a little bit
My skin feels like baking cookies