Lite-Brite

Pass coffee,
accidentally touch me and
my breasts turn to a Lite-Brite.

 I have discovered a soul of
 32 flavors. Each day
 I put the tiny spoon in my mouth,
 then all of me seems to melt upon my tongue—
 savoring, soaking,
 spiraling my entire being,
 up becoming down,
 truth becoming lie.

 Awake to find
 I am Dorothy,
 coming out wherever I am,
 all the people small around me,
 otherworldly, curious, and adorable.

 A woman in a pink glassy bubble
 floats toward me,
 her sparkling wand electric,
 its points fizzing and flicking
 delicate splashes.

 Beneath my old house,
 the legs of my past shrivel and curl away
 into black grass,
 leaving behind two slippers—
 throbbing and glinting,
 ruby jewels begging to be worn,
 guiding me to walk upon
 the hot golden path of God.

 Careful not to fall into a dream,
 I rush, push myself awake,
 embracing snowflakes with my bare arms,
 allowing them to rest cold upon my eyelashes.

 When I reach the Emerald City,
 I find there is no leader—
 just a small man behind a curtain,
 whispering lies.

 I thought I was on a quest to return home,
 but I realize you have always been in me,
 even when I was black and white
 and the world lived
 in the shadow of a rainbow.