Every night, when she turned out the lights, the last things Hope saw were the amorphous ghosts of the curly light bulb pulsing against the darkness of her inner eyelids. Then they would fade and shrink and sleep would slip her away to countless bizarre and sometimes Freudian dreams; but not this night. This night the ghosts would not fade. Instead they merged and grew, coalescing into a pale green portal that beckoned he...

There is, I think, a universe That’s parallel to mine. Where someone else who looks like me Lives in a different time.She looks and thinks a lot like me Her eyes are hazel green But she has witnessed many things My eyes have never seen.For one small thing is different, I’m not sure what or why,And that conspires to alter how Her life goes flashing by.Consider now the other ones Who cross her path each day. Each of them wi...