No one knows how dark
my days are, the blizzards
that blow through my brain
beckoning for emancipation
from trivialities of my time.
I know no cause for these sideways
swirls that push me south.
I am the sunburnt crab who
flees the monstrous waves
of Lilliput and Blefuscu.
I lean in toward the beacon.
I look for the green winds.
When the white sails
of some Athenian helper appear,
I inhale to draw them near.
I would like to leave the shore.
Maybe hike a mile inland
to the fresh water of aqua.
Perhaps there, the ruminations
will cease and sleep, coo me.
Or at least, a small Tinkerbell-sized
pixie could sprinkle sundust
with such perfect aim that I am
deloused of the darkness
and infused with brilliant color.
I see days of turquoise ahead.
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