I cast my toy Catamaran adrift,
the year the Berlin Wall
was sledge hammered into souvenirs.

Last night I dreamt
the letter to an unknown Goddess,
hidden in the wheel house,
hadn’t perished in a sink hole.

At sunrise, the gale amputated limbs,
of a Lemon Scented Gum,
bridged the surging stream.
The brook broadened into a lake.
‘Text me’ read the note
on your wrought iron gate.

We met at a gallery café.
Your eyes said we were already friends,
bonded by our awe of every canvas
in that cavernous palace.
As you clasped my hands,
I pondered the river boats painted on your nails.
Every cell in my body rejoiced
as you read my palm.
Whether or not destiny was encoded
in its branching canals wasn’t important.

Later, as we waded through ankle deep rapids,
I stared wide eyed at the Catamaran
tattooed on your ankle.
A scroll was inked on your shoulder.

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