Mush and Milk

Does a fiction need a purpose?
Is it really a fiction?

It is a text or an image that
is used as if a truth, a fiction.

How do we use these odd texts?
To pass time? To think about things?

When we have items pegged, we feel
like we can rest for a few minutes.

The need to have a working map,
it is a survival instinct.

But more, to have a song, a story,
we feel at ease if we know they are there.

So one more spin on experience
needs to be sorted and listed.

One more evening in the flat,
at least one funny story or jingle.

The old fallen fictions didn't really
make more sense, they were just familiar.

So do the books on my orienting shelf
define a project like fire songs.

But withdraw them all, just sparks and
shadows and hollow breathing and pains.

He baked me my bread and brought me my ale.
He sat by the fire and told me many a fine tale.