my bestest friend Winnie

i want to lick the honey off my fingers with my bestest friend Winnie.

i want dandelions to sprout wherever my bare feet wander.

i want to never pause to see a mirror in the river.

i want to giggle as the butterflies tickle my nose.

i want to be reborn with every breaking day

bending to the BIGGEST STAR with ease.

when Winnie whispers, “oh bother,”

i shush him with my finger.

bothers are for contraptions on the highways racked with roadkill,

and we’re not there; we’re here.

we’re neither here nor there.

we’re anywhere we please.

i take Winnie’s hand, leading to the sycamore trees.

he’s in an unencumbered slumber in their warm embrace.

But sycamores hollow to willows with shrieks and groans and creaks.

Honey ferments to oil and rivers lead to leaks.

Butterflies morph to moths that eat my rosy cheeks.

Willow dismembers winnie; he was never mine to keep.

I weep.

I try to sleep

In vain.

Searing change of name sullies the one before.

The scorch of shiny car keys

Leave my pudgy fingers sore.