Cassandra’s Tears

Tears of joy, tears of pain, we are reflected in the salt-water pools we create. So let us build a fleet of paper boats and sail them on our ocean of indecision, laughing at the wind-whipped white-crested waves that would wash over us, drowning us in our own despair, yet somehow never vanquishing us in the end.

My Photo
Location: Lennoxville, Quebec, Canada

Sunday, September 18, 2005

“Why does any of this make any sense to me? Because once, while drunk, she told me she thought I was magic.”—A mini-saga

Convinced that this one was her prince, Patricia tenderly kissed the lipless mouth of the green bullfrog she had scooped out of the pond. Suddenly, she felt herself transformed into a butterfly, the promise of freedom in her irridescent wings cut short by the prehensile tongue of her erstwhile lover.


Post a Comment

<< Home