We Ride the Ocean. Crest and Trough.

Bodies fall from heaven. Her name was Fern. She fell on my sleeping. We woke. 

Her black hair grows wildly all around. 

Her cloud-like flesh beams light through the room. My house disappears and we begin among the vibrant purple-splashed ether, tumbling and succumbing.

Eternally we arrive.

Then we clean up as the earth returns to us.

Fern freshens herself in the bathroom. I dip in the river, clean enough. I cook some buttery mushrooms.

We laugh about some Perfection.

We Come and   Go   Light   Lee .  .   .    the end.