Tree House


The lions are outside purring with their paws to the moon. I rub their bellies and nuzzle their mane’s before drifting off into childhood. I see pop rocks and feel the fear of swallowing them with soda. Then comes the fear of swallowing an apple seed and the threat of a tree growing out of my tumtum. I taste waxy frosting dyed red and Sprite tickling my nose. Oh, and you know those wild black berries, those too. I look down to find my feet firmly planted on my tree house, and that swirl in my butt from being up so high. My tree house is three different colored wooden slabs nailed to a couple branches. If I fell from that height I’d surely die. I climb down testing each branch before I apply my full weight, feeling the bark come loose after each release. The ground comes more clear…

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