Window Art Pilgrimage

Lipstick art on my window; a hole in my screen in the shape of a heart, left for me. Found some footprints in the snow, followed them till they met the road. Hundreds of strangers compromising the scent, but all going one direction so I followed where they went: Over the Appalachians, across great plains, through a muddy river and towns with no names. Buffalo and elk traded peace for bait; we washed our hair in a great salt lake. Camped in the desert shaded by a snowy range; No one had any answers, or offered a name. Rested and onward to the end of the land, we weaved through the city like a marching band. Lipstick started raining from the sky, and all the missionaries began to die. The trolleys stopped, and the fog lifted; the wind blew east and the fault lines shifted. The ground opened, and sucked the world below; only one room remained: it had lipstick on its window. The window opened, and a voice called out my name saying, “Sorry, I can’t save you, but I’m glad you came.” And I fell… until the sky was a memory; until that voice couldn’t even remember me. A lipstick heart on my window; a hole in my screen. I woke up too late to recall the dream.