mist pervades as I travel
in a right brain time warp
big picture forests and piles
of dead grass manifest
a soon to be demolished shed
smells vaguely of natural gas
old tools rust: vice grips, drill bits
and exacto-knives gather dust
it feels like I am dating my own life
colorless dead selves emerge
I carry them toward the brink of cognition
lay them on an imaginary stage
