marching bands and supposies

 

when the grand moment comes, will it be trite, with confetti flowers and cliche after cliche raining down on my awestruck face, as I look around for some skinny Pepsi models to tell me, darling, you made it, you're it, woo hoooo!

perhaps it will be beautiful and brilliant, with an alien landscape airbrushed with bursting colors and forms of impossible beauties, sweeping cities with outstanding originality of theme and towering musical scores

perhaps it will be so heartbreakingly ordinary that I will pick up a cup of tea and a book, and ignore it, as I move forward with my life sunken comfortably in my oasis

perhaps it will be a party of all the people I want beside me, plucked away from their whirlygig lives all around the world, laughing in my tiny abode and peeking into the refrigerator, going "ya ya thats awesome, is there something to eat?"

perhaps it will be poised on my last straw with weeping violins, as my life is about to disintegrate, my last hope sliced in two and fed to the cat next door, and I am waiting for one last kind word to pull me out of the brink of eternal self pity, when the jackpot hits

perhaps it will be a dream, a recurring dream, of a treasure hunt that ends well, a dream that comes true and takes my breath away, a dream to end all dreams