Friday


Metal Gates.

Life here is weird. People talk with their eyes and
Wave with their toes. The moon is the sun and
The sun is the moon. The plants don’t grow
In the morning dew. They sleep in the creepy
moon light. Here doors are smaller than the
knobs and the grass tastes like peppermint. 
Goats greet the Queen, as she makes her way in.
A top her head, sits a stuffed duck. She likes
Here men with a Purple Heart and extra poison ivy.
Branches wrap around her ankles lift her above the sea.
The Queen is flying and her Mother won’t stop crying.
This place is so strange.


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