Tessa, It Was Just A Gift Of The Gab

deer tom chambers

Photo by Tom Chambers via Magpie Tales

The fruit punch was spiked.
So we all got drunk. And leering.
We sharpened our comments,
jabbed about. Perhaps one cannot
be a genius about imaginary things.

But even in our absent-mindedness,
I could remember the deer,
poised on a table sniffing
a gold-plated flower, maybe
a candle-holder.

I’ve lost my thread. Regained
puny sense. Brown-haired girl
waiting for her momma. No, it was
a thought. And then it was real.
Even real–when you try to peel off
those layers–you find nothing.

Prompt: I got this surreal image from Magpie Tales and thought, why not? It’s got a dream-like quality. Then I thought, how to tie this to the Writers Digest Day 24 Prompt, which is to write about something lost then regained. Haven’t you had the experience of trying to follow a thread, and then it got broken off, leaving you wondering? What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck was she thinking? When that got too boring, then you just make stuff up. Whatever. Because it’s probably–too much and nothing. Just like the dream I had last night which made no sense whatever when I awoke but made absolute sense while it was happening, and was even somewhat pleasurable while it lasted.

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4 thoughts on “Tessa, It Was Just A Gift Of The Gab

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