Butterfly Effects

Last night a powerful force was juggled between ocean-going butterflies. A little ripple in Bermuda blew its lid in Indonesia. People died and survived to be recalled by the living in the morning. Dreaming hands built beer-caves for their foamy drools, fingers raised hedge funds. Ripples sex-blitzed elderly spinsters with an erotica, that made their eyelids flutter. Personally speaking, somewhere before dawn I became a Russian novel, there was snow, there was a steam-train, Cossacks arrived, blood was spilled, the dead fell asleep in my bed.