by Samantha Wright

The house is painting itself

with wild colors again.  We are so happy.

We love everyone.  Life is only fair and beautiful.

We drive along in a Buick Skylark, which hugs the

road, and also hogs the road. We lose track of time and end

up in Tupelo, where Elvis still lives with his mama.

Where honey drips from the trees like golden

moss. We eat jelly donuts and never get fat.

I lick my fingers and declare it all

very fine and good indeed.