fastfood

That day we found

ourselves

lost in Hungary

in a fast food hall

of mirrors

with Boy George …

what will we call it

for the record?

For the familial

yarn-spinning

post-us record?

It was what it was,

just one of many

kaleidoscope moments

when patterns deign

to reveal

their common thread

because we simply

will not/cannot

close our eyes.

Advertisements