By Dean Young
How could I not?
Have seen a man walk up to a piano
and both survive.
Have turned the exterminator away.
Seen lipstick on a wine glass not shatter the wine.
Seen rainbows in puddles.
Been recognized by stray dogs.
I believe reality is approximately 65% if.
All rivers are full of sky.
Waterfalls are in the mind.
We all come from slime.
Even alpacas.
I believe we’re surrounded by crystals.
Not just Alexander Vvedensky.
Maybe dysentery, maybe a guard’s bullet did him in.
Nonetheless.
Nevertheless
I believe there are many kingdoms left.
The Declaration of Independence was written with a feather.
A single gem has throbbed in my chest my whole life
even though
even though this is my second heart.
Because the first failed,
such was its opportunity.
Was cut out in pieces and incinerated.
I asked.
And so was denied the chance to regard my own heart
in a jar.
Strange tangled imp.
Wee sleekit in red brambles.
You know what it feels like to hold
a burning piece of paper, maybe even
trying to read it as the flames get close
to your fingers until all you’re holding
is a curl of ash by its white ear tip
yet the words still hover in the air?
That’s how I feel now.
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Paul and I spent most of Saturday at Potterverse at the Bethesda North Marriott and Conference Center, which we had never had occasion to visit before, though we started by meeting a bunch of friends including Cheryl, Ali, and Steph for lunch at the Original Pancake House, then we met more friends at the convention after I stopped for an EX raid at the Timberlawn Tot Lot. We went to the fan fiction panel and a bit of the masquerade around visits to the dealer's room and artist alley, then we all went to dinner at Grand Fusion and back to the con where we saw the latter part of Miriam Margoyles and Simon Fisher-Becker's panel. Now we're back home watching an episode of Aristocrats!
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