his index finger swiftly
as if a windshield wiper
“Look there, and there, and there”
Breathtaking, the vista soaring behind my eyelids
Cobwebs, thick like drapes,
wisps of what was then,
anchored to what is now.
Still pretentious —
as if meaning can be derived by thinking too hard
Hippie beads clink
as if I’m in a record shop
Elton John’s glasses
bopping to Crocodile Rock
I’m home in my flower power bed nestled near mom
to the ceiling above my head
over the rainbow
lava lamp clumps
resemble my dendrites; or is it my soul’s vista?
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2021
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