this country does noT exist12:36 AM
The moon was gold like violets in February, and the grass green like radishes pulled from the dark recesses of the fridge. The air smelled of diamonds--coal burning in the microwave; and life breathed down my neck with the self-importance of a forced whisper during morning vespers.
Rain falls like similes.
I like the like creatures like morning likes dawn.
Words and intentions fail.