from Please Bury Me in This
Allison Benis White

     "Maybe my arms lifted as a woman lowers a dress over my head.
    This is not what I want to tell you.
      Looking at red flowers on her mother's dress as she sat on her lap on a train is Woolf's first memory.
      Then the sound of waves behind a yellow shade, of being alive as ecstasy.
    Maybe her mind, as I read, lowering over my mind.
      Maybe looking down, as I sit on the floor, at the book inside the diamond of my legs.
   Even briefly, to love with someone else's mind.
      Moving my lips as I read the waves breaking, one, two, one, two, and sending a splash of water over the beach.
      What I want to tell you is ecstasy."
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My thoughts come and go like the waves. My story ideas seem great when I see them,  but all in all I lose interest all the same. Perhaps one story will catch my ever fleeting attention.