The ordinary world
Candy Land
Here, old people are in their prime
and the sun never sets in the wintertime.
There are fairies that appear for children born with nothing,
so that one day they can become something.
Here, jungle cats can fly
and all the plants refuse to die.
Teachers are never allowed to make Her feel dumb
and all Her friends are armed with bubble gum.
Here, parents who won’t love their children as they come
simply float away with the wind.
All the streets are without debris
and school lunch is always free.
Here, She’ll always be inspired
and tattoos mean that She’s been hired.
‘Cause rock candy is made with vibranium
and freedom has no price.
And when two people cry at the exact same time
they are connected for life.
Because here, mistakes are where one begins
and there is always mercy for past sins.
And guns when they shoot—
flowers.
Lucid
Her dreams have become so real
that She’s started to think they’re true.
Yesterday, She was making cornbread
when Her cousins came over.
They didn’t really help Her mix it,
only lingering in the kitchen,
waiting to lick the spatula.
But She understood.
That was probably the best part,
the sweetness of soft beginnings.
They knew it was almost done when
the room started to smell like
honey and elixir.
They cut into it before
the batter was fully set
when suddenly
a stage appeared,
with big red curtains that pooled at the floor.
It was still for a moment
until someone walked out from behind the curtain.
They froze for a second
and then walked out into the audience,
took Her hand,
that was still covered in flour,
and gave it a shake.
When they looked up at Her,
their lips were a sandy white
and they wore a toothy grin.
Eventually they walked away,
back up the stage, humming a tune,
and closed the curtain.
The theater faded from view,
only to be replaced again by Her kitchen.
At the table,
Her cousins
licked the yellow off their lips
and tiny fingertips.
Then She washed the pans,
blowing them dry
and returning them home.
Later, She tucked Herself in for the night
and before She even knew it,
maybe even before She was asleep,
She woke up.
Yet, downstairs on the kitchen counter were
pans and pans
of freshly baked bread
​
and a dusting of flour.
While unable to remember
where Her dreams stopped
and reality began,
She couldn't help but be satisfied
with the sweet stickiness of the bread,
entranced by its glamour.