It could have been a dream about kites and tangled strings. It could have been clouds in my over active imagination. It could have been my subconscious telling me there’s a message for you. I don’t know, somehow it’s all garbled and I can’t tell if this is a dream or a poem. I think back to when we were kids who could fuck all day and come back for more at night. The down side I recall was our irrational fear of flying monkeys and an obsession with the yellow brick road. We have grown up and out of our skins many times since then. I think we still harbor a wish to see the Wizard and thumb our noses at the monkeys. The Wizard and monkeys, kites and clouds, archetypes for something we share deep in our collective unconscious as Jung might say. The weird wonderful synchronicity that drew us to one another. So it’s only fair you should know there is a siren’s song. Oh, she’s not singing to me – that could never happen – but I hear it nonetheless. Now, all of this is happening in my imagination and I can’t tell what it means. It could be a dream about kites and tangled strings, or a poem about the meaning of Wizards and monkeys. The sky just isn’t the right color these days. There’s something strange about the wind. I heard someone talking about crickets and arthritis which struck me as odd because I can’t remember the last time I heard a cricket strumming his wings in search of a girl, and maybe it has something to do with the sky and wind. The cricket is just trying to get some action, cricket style, not lure her to her doom. The siren I hear doesn’t have action or doom on her mind, she’s only doing her job, and a man like me can’t help but stumble on the rocks. Alright, this is a dream or it’s a poem, either way I wish it would come to an end…you too? Let’s try clicking our heels three times. It could have been different. It could have been a spectacular. It could have been a dream about kites and strings.