Ottawa

pine and pollen fill each breath
lungs like bellows fuel the flame of
naturally-occurring psychedelic introspection
each escalating inhalation pushes ever higher
the surging stream of consciousness

memories flit and flash
merry-go-round kaleidoscope as I witness
a life replayed in moments
(am I sleeping? is this death?)
oxygen seems to catalyze this back-of-eyelids film-strip
(whose memories are these? the protagonist is indeterminate)

there is no sound but the breeze
brushing its face against the skin of the trees
the vibrant visual cascade ceases as suddenly as it commenced