Moats of grilled octopus and eel
fill my dreams.
Meat mattresses and Grecian stalks of radicchio (purples and teals)
foreshadow the paths I will take to streams.
I’m a lizard in this night reverie
and more and more in my days now every.
Prancing in and out of waterfalls
and basking in the mist of doing nothing
but acknowledging everything to me that calls.
Maybe a ten-toed sloth or quilless porcupine;
I see graceful pythons and perfect people divine.

Jesus was purple; or was he not?
I could be mistaken.
I was mistook for purple once too.
I may be olive, but never green.
I’m a kalamata

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