box of doughnut dreams

and so it is with 73 days and daffodil afternoons -- (where their petite little heads stretchup to the sun ((whom they mimic anyways))-- that the pollen in the air and the budding trees must exude some sort of chemical that ferments and causes my whole body to be drunk. i'm a drunk. a daffodil and yellow drunk. one of those going-down-the-slide belly days -- the kind of slide with new bare toes sand at the bottom.
a space pirate and cherry lemonade kind of day -- a dawn treader day going thro the lillies afternoon.

and God, please bless neil.



(note to reader - magnetic fields' "i" happens to be enhancing and extravagantly augmenting my mood. amen)