on your forehead, try to wrap

a turban around – slips off easily

as to when and where,

a carpet might just become magical.

fly high,

didn’t the ride almost take off

till the flip flap weakens

to a dribble; suck in the air

play it cool – the crowd is not easily

fooled. and they poke around

on a time stamp

beginning to fade. rub on it

till the genie comes out

to grant inquiries: how can i help?

the pressure cooks, is like a burning candle

waxing away

dribbles; slips

a turban comes undone

but hey – let’s all be cool eh?

and cool is the last thing around

when a sinister cackle cries from the crypt.

don’t forget me, a skeleton grasp strongly

on to the living, don’t leave me buried deep inside,

tries, attempts to crawl out

to breathe in air. stop this; the conscious

admonishes. don’t; the unconscious fades, blinks

with revelation. i see ya!

time erased, time retrieved,

a lost burial ground of unspoken angst,

why not me? why not indeed.

but a plastic malleable grinning face

scoffs at this idea.

why not me? the face indicated

to what is apparent;

thus two became one,

one with bones screaming

to be let out. the other

dolly me— playing with fire.