Eye of the storm

Ten minutes to heaven

Abstract love and heady wine

Writers of poetry never

Sleep on airplanes

And winners of fortune never

Bet on a Wednesday

My mother was a tiger

And my father made of sand

We were all born late in winter

Never walked upon dry land

Summer

We all melted into glass

Fused together

Like a burnt and wary accident

On a Tuesday when

No one showed up for work

I was all smiles on Monday

When my father drove me home

By the weekend I was parentless

Naked and alone

I worked through all my problems

I dismissed them one by one

Finally

I was allowed to have some fun

I walked the streets at night

Ran naked in the sun

Empty

Thoughtless

An enemy of the state

A child on the run

Clues

A dozen or so fallen by the wayside

You, for one

A basilisk, a shadow

A nymph or satyr, demon not

Chosen

Truth and fiction

Beauty beyond reason

In bed I lie

In the morning I steal

For you I felt nothing

As for me, nothing was real

9/10/2013