Dali?

Something pulled me here. I felt the tug of the line inside my ribs. Thirsty birds of prey. I looked twice to make sure. Feels like we're swirling. He, from behind, curving his feet beneath my feet. His body folding over me as if he were the womb. Or the melting watches of Dali. I thought I remembered why we could only do it this way. In all fairness, a summoning of the ancestors is no joke. I did it in the shower. I called them all. I swore I'd go back to Catholic church. I cast. Here. There. In between. Rode road with the full moon as my lead. Graveyard dirt and a ragged patch of red. Dried dandelion. I was detoured inside a two horse town. I have a feather for you and an eager tip of the tongue.

10/18/16
(The Persistence of Memory)

Today you are an I-Ching Coin and a ten dollar discount.