Waking into another migraine.
Exiting a dark, silent tunnel.
Entering blinding, screeching highway.
Remembering from my childhood...
Saving a field mouse from an old yellow cat,
Watching the mean old neighbor woman,
Coming out and
Stabbing the wounded victim with a stick,
For no reason.
Crying, I roll over and search for the tunnel again.

© 2006, Trish Sanford