Dali’s Dream
Candy red apple
crisp, tart
kiss, pucker, pop.
Cold legs
in black boots
buckle in, back up.
A percussionist’s pounding
thump-thumping on a pirate’s chest
of ruby jewels.
Fried egg alarm clocks
tiptoe silently through my garden
so as not to disturb my dreams.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
Candy red apple
crisp, tart
kiss, pucker, pop.
Cold legs
in black boots
buckle in, back up.
A percussionist’s pounding
thump-thumping on a pirate’s chest
of ruby jewels.
Fried egg alarm clocks
tiptoe silently through my garden
so as not to disturb my dreams.
Lindsay Riggs Brown
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