Poking peepholes into possibility; nothing is impossible.

I need to believe at least six impossible things before breakfast …..as if fresh buckets full of stars poured out melt holes in heaven’s floor, poking peepholes into possibility. I let myself remember that long-ago day when I plopped my childhood bike down along the sidewalk and swung through the heavy doors to Hickory Farms like Alice tumbling down the rabbithole…