Skipping.

As I toss the stone along

The mirror of cool water,

I see the warm glow of

Its aubern surface within - -

For a moment before the disturbance

Erupts and spits that rock back up.

The pond evicts it,

From that planet alternate us,

Where ripples cut through the

Harsh jutting edges of reality,

It jots along,

From soft to hard,

From fiction to the concrete.

And I stand on the bank,

Stuck in the actual.