BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK (DREAM FANTASY WEDDING)
A man on a brightly lit street begs the bride bearing a mark on her face for a return to pattern. There are nearly invisible limbs wrapped in black velvet & vibrating just slightly in the breeze suspended from aspens & gingkoes. The doors close & open of their own accord & men leap daintily backwards into their assigned places. The light again itches obscurely inside her mouth. He turns the handle of a music box or hurdy-gurdy. His face two halves one great one small & sorrowful. A pencil-mustached mask. Sunlight & shadow making all apparent. A dance among the painted flowers of the alley as trees & buildings pass by at an angle shifting. A wrinkling into the organic & finally a wind to catch & separate the strands as in pastry or a cloud in the genuine sky. Her crown of flowers floats back as the line of men passes by. She emerges stately as a slow drift of foam, her dress impeccably dry.