fair warning: on block island or manhattan or in missouri, we can be a little salty
wizard in pink pants
Some days there is magic in the air—or at least in the mind. It started when I saw this woman waiting for the bus. I thought she was carrying a magic staff topped with a crystal ball.
It was a curtain rod.
Later, on the sidewalk, a hummingbird wing sparkled, a jewel in the sun.
It was a candy wrapper.
Most exciting of all, there was the wild boar as big as a garbage truck rooting up the ground outside the Museum of Natural History.
Alas, it proved a fallen oak.
Was it a magical day, the kind you have sometimes as a kid?
Or just an acid flashback?