Wheat

Wheat

It happened. Called everything within me to account.
I had to process the possibility of hallucination,
questioning every answer I knew.
It was so exhilarating to have to do all of this, knowing
I would be stumped. I would start all over, and re-see it.

The Beach Boys, telling about their 409, the visor down.
Afloat on the next asphalt mirage, sinking as we arrived.
The thing you did with your hair. Pulling it from your collar
just as a breeze rippled a field you could not see.
Behind. Beside you. To my right, wheat bending.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010 --