You’ve been here before. It’s not
Like you’ve never seen the inside
Of an oven.
And suddenly, it looks like rain.
Don’t worry, the trees are waterproof.
Sometimes you tell people that the
Marks on your back, you know,
the ones you got from passing out
on the rocks that day, are just
Trails, blazed by crazed es ee ex.
But then you feel weird,
Like the way you feel when
You almost run into a stranger,
And then you both try to go the same
Direction, making for two mistakes
In one second,
Like the time you drank so much
That you thought you were
Only dreaming, or maybe inside some
Kind of an aquarium filled with cotton
Or clouds or bugs or betrayal,
Either way, you’re pretty sure
That you aren’t the only one who
Has seen the inside of an oven.
I know you aren’t.
Photo Caroline Näslund. Words by Randy Conner.
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