Prose Senses Big Winnings

The process is beginning
All buttons have been pressed
The reel’s tapes are spinning
The birddog steps over the leaves in her nest.

The fog is spreading curled eddies wider
Like a few dewy rumors in a dilettante discotheque
The trees are out using their branches
To orchestrate the shades of the shipwreck.

The answer’s been written
The decision’s been made
The orders distributed
At the ticker tape parade.

Responding with a dogbird whistle
Purposefully drowned out and detuned
The view from the window sees
Your face returned from the window’s view

A stylized, pie-eyed,
Candy ass balloon.