The grandma phone rings a field.

Breeze wheezes, winded.

Cloud

Ping pong table

Sky.

Creek thermometers through mud,

Frowns into Mayonnaise Sea.

Galosh the grumpy shore,

Dip nose condimental.

See the sea horse radish spirit itself,

Spiriting away the spices.

Conundrums gallop a stumbly beat,

As slowly swimming yourself you find.

Collapsed in claps and a rhythmic clatter

Immersed in the emulsifier.

In dreams you’ve felt this, a heavy kind of floating.

White noise congealed to cream.

It’s an eerie comfort, like lack of shadow.

Don’t stay too long, no. Don’t stay too long

In the Mayonnaise Sea. The coming back is harder.