Several Dream

In dreams--You
give birth to squirrels and I
chase coconuts into deep blue,
crack them like geodes to
reveal the gold inside. Then the spring bridge

gives way, and we
fall through,
crack our heads on the rocks below
wake up as
rolled, wet toilet paper, Marty's dad
saying, "It'
s OK. We
can
save them!"  (The CPR only

squeezes the water out,
creating a puddle below the hospital bed.)

When I wake up from this I'll say, "I had a dream that I was a human, and I had a life and dreams."
Something will ask, "What do you remember?"
I will respond:
Nothing in particular. Two others. The squirrel. And every tiny second following.