Alice Ate Mushrooms
Alice ate mushrooms and her head shot to space. She collected asteroids from the belt. Dust fell; a meteor shower began.
Alice made a belt, out of stars she saved from falling. “I fell once. When I landed, it hurt,” she explained.
Alice threw the stars up. A constellation bloomed. Like spilt milk, they spread, to create the milky way.
In space, Alice spun. She gathered dust; it gathered form. She breathed; it breathed. They exhaled.
Alice cut the strings, and the comet’s trail grew. Through space, it blazed. Light followed.
Alice fished a star. It clung to the walls of her cup. Over the edge, it peeked. “What’s in the world below?”
The star jumped. It landed in time. “Just in time.” Alice served it pastries. There was toast. They drank tea.