Big Ass Lotuses
I dream of lotuses from a cut-out Hindu tale.
I dream of hot cakes.
Hot hot cakes.
I dream of kickin’ ass.
I dream of blood thirsty bulldogs and the one that gives me baby Juan.
I dream of my days as a wingman.
I want to fly in my dreams so I may peek through open blinds into the souls of cakes.
I want to remember.
It will linger and stir my brain.
Brain is my wingman.
I don’t know my brain but I will.
And we’ll go fishin’ for some tail.
Then we’ll get more hot cakes.