Pan Pipe My Brain

Why is that airy-sounding Peruvian flute-pipe instrument de rigueur for New York City street fairs and Southwestern airport soundtracks?

Why does it make my brain feel hollow and make me see everything in lavender laced with geode crystals?

Please stop playing it street fair near my house today, I beg you.

At least now I know I am not alone.

Pine

When I close my eyes I see a cold pine forest. Not too cold, more the sort of cold that breezes in between trees, tall trees that reach into the dark blue sky and gather at pointed tips as if attracted to one another. The ground in the clearing is dry and a deep breath tastes of pine sap and teal needles.

I keep seeing this when I close my eyes. I’ve been looking for it each time, hoping to enter that calm, chilly woods and stay in it as long as my waking dream will allow. It’s a memory from childhood grown into what I will need to find in my future.

An Unfinished Charcoal at the End of a Tunnel