Without anticipating anything, a blank slate in a larger dirtier terrain,
he squeaked his feet
through the sand.
Trudging happily to the edge of the water
and then standing there. The wall of the room shimmered
and lightning bugs spilled into the room
with all the style and frenetic turbulence of angry wasps.
The ocean scene with its distant oil rigs
on the horizon splashed up and creatures lapped coarse tongues into the air.
Capturing lightning from their glass wings.
An icicle with rainboid transparent smears coating the room.
Something to appreciate, an idea- to travel on from. Or with.
He enjoyed what he had and didn't expect anything more. And that was what made it suggest a vaster range. Mostly it just made creating that much more intense.
So much going on, and it seems like a bunch of nothing sometimes.
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