there i sit in a paddle of sky. foot-less-color-less shoes skip towards me stepping on my finger tips. tingles, tingles, red tingles. Of my left hand, grey leaves soak out. there is a hill on top of my left arm, of grey. i breathe in my hair and it tickles in my throat. a cellular-phone rings to blow away the hill of leaves into the pond of catfish. 00110101001110..... catfish make photo-copies of my leaves, dig a hole deep into the air. the sky splashes into my eyes. i feel the songs of the birds in my ribcage. i shake to fly to the chair de Luné.
foot-less-color-less shoes stare at my ears to tell me of the cheerful doorbell.