Something short of sensory. It’s a flickering fading vision like a last match burning out in a dark room. You can’t touch it but it’s so damn real. You can’t see it but you know what it looks like. You can’t hear it and you can’t taste it. Your nostrils fill with the sweet imaginary smell that may have once graced your nose. It never was and it never will be. It’s a perfect circle or a unicorn. It’s an urban legend that seems too true. You dream and dream but it’s not there.
July 1, 2010