She arrived all at once to the spot
where she stood for an hour
before anyone noticed her being there
among the peonies.

Someone remarked, with a musical reference, how
Lucy in the sky with Diamonds her night dark dress
appeared under the unnatural black light, until
someone else commented about the absence of stars above.

Her memory spilled over into the punch bowl
and before long everyone who imbibed
knew what it was like for her to suckle
from her mother’s milky breast as a child.

Someone slept, for an hour, in her iris colored iris
and won the hide and seek game
as the wind laughed right out loud
at the notion of ten-thirty in the evening.

She entered into a communal pair of blue jeans
while walking the glass streets of a west coast town,
while the beach cat scratched the works of Shakespeare
out of its ears and kicked all the letters deep into the sand.

Someone, in the guise of a curtain rod, held up
the party’s exquisite corpse and declared it a dandelion
shower head, so the tired could bathe and
ready themselves for bed.