That American Life

She sang, ‘In the middle of a dream I call your name. Oh Yoko!’ as she crossed an empty parking lot under the sun. Integrity plagued her at unexpected turns. Running a nail over the metal cord casing, she realized she hadn't understood it could mean different things. Like the first degree of freshness, she'd thought it also the last. Payphone pressed to her ear, she squeezed her eyes closed, held her breath and imagined the world at the other end of the line.

All alone in the branches

Some of the trees were giving up and dropping out without any roman candle flares. Yet summer held fast her reign. Voices the only thing lifting the veil, sitting wearily in the shade of a thinning oak tree.