banana brain is like a sea of hay and the cows come home to a dream of snow which is white as it always is but the yellow comes when the cows walk and the snow is churned like butter and becomes heavy and slow and sticky to your shoe or boot or heal the wounds of the past by admitting you are wrong and the wrong is not yours but another stranger that followed you home and asked for a blanket to sleep on and on and on until you can't run anymore or you will throw up your hands in surrender or praise or to grab the monkey bar in the dark at the park which smells like yesterday and the braids in your hair which furrow and plow the strands until the crescent becomes a bow and the gold spun is run away with the spoon.