Inner Space travel takes place throughout the night. As morning approaches I am still oozing and melding and merging with the micro and the macro. We are one.
At the predawn I pull the natural world across the yard as I make my way to my parents's house. I want to listen to music. I need to hear Jefferson Airplane. I lean my ear against the built-in speaker of the Hi-Fi with the volume set at 1. Like a whisper I hear, "One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small..."
Now while mother is making breakfast sister Lori looks at me and exclaims, "Donna, what's the matter with your eyes?! Mom look at Donna's eyes!!"
Mother can no longer look at me. I am lost to her. Gone.
I find a ride to the beach with a long breakwall that juts out into the Great Lake Erie.
My battered body rocks backward and forward and side to side as the frothing waters crash over me and the boulders. We becoming one with the seaweed and the waves. We/one.
Today I am a Seamstress
13 hours ago