Dyan Nyad

I am writing a movie.

The movie is writing a book.

The crows sit on scarecrows in a costco in america.

Maybe 1 or 2 leaves left themselves on the

Oak tree branches above our heads.

Scary can be midwinter can seem you.

Drowning is too tired, as not paying attention

Can be ever blacker, like forgetting. 

Hallucinate for her sake, green seaweed 

In the right time;

I imagine in all the night 

To wait to not be eaten

One crouches twigs poke

Human of age

Holding record

Worth the attention

Then we saw American Fiction, one of our favorite ones.