She pressed 'play,' and the world went around and around - it was a dancer; an astronaut in her inner space; a creature of the sea, tentacles outstretched for a strange embrace.
She moved her legs, and she jumped up and down, up and down - she was a surfer on the moon's face; skipping along the squares of a checkerboard, all gray; twirling up soppy, green strands of overcooked spaghetti.
She made paint, splattered color on the walls and the sky and the ground - nothing sat in boxes anymore; all the walls transformed to doors; she dove into tunnels where there used to be hardwood floors.
She stretched her limbs out in a million new directions, tied them loop-de-loop, like twine - she shot herself like a bungee ball, watched her body unwind; fell to rainbows in the kitchen sink; swung down the drain on a jungle vine.
She washed away, candy crusted solid on the horses nose - she fed the leprechauns lemon-flavored holly-pops; danced in the Christpatrick's Day alien parade; a universe of colors inversed, bleeding down the staircase of her mind.
She pressed 'play,' and the rubber-boned queen erased the outlines.
Chicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird.