flotsam and jetsam of new year
confused by the mishap surrounding the nomenclature.
I’m just wondering where the ostrich laid the golden egg.
I see the feathers and boas and top hats and canes,
popped champagne corks trapped in the chandeliers––
people are tap dancing on linoleum,
swimming in the fountain with little bubbly surprises crackling into their synapse
releasing some sort of bliss
or epiphany of psychedelic manifestation and
truly pure happiness~~and you know,
you hit the high seas in a little boat and you float,
wondering if it’s the hurricane or the high tide,
or if you’re going to glide swiftly
into the beach, for another