One Madison Ave.

I stood half naked: I tippy-toed just over four-feet tall. I was mostly six years removed from the womb: The spectral of the candy colored skies angled above:

The blue whale appeared resolute in its pose: The whale was still, quiet, dead: I imagined almost alive: Her large eye looked me up and down: My imagination dithered: The summer blaze begged me to get a bit closer: The shade and shadows of the 60, 70, 80, 90 foot behemoth, posed: The whales’ vapors moved about:

I had heard a rumor: A family of Pika’s had lost their way: I fused all of my young imagination into one thought: The blue whale most likely circled the seas for quite sometime: She espied a Pika family ashore on a tiny embankment: She might have been blinded by sunlight reflecting like a mirror on the Pacific: The Pika and embankment turned out to be a........

© CounterPunch