i sit on my porch
the early summer breeze
blowing over
my bare shoulders…
reading about [*goddess]Â isis
and dreamily imagining
impossibilities
as i smoke my
pixie stick cigarette
you must be
deep into
high stakes
queen-chasing
right about now.
the burning hot tip of
my cigarette
chases my questions
in circles..
where is the line between
fantasy-as-survival
…
and Truth?
..