THE BETTER TO SEE YOU WITH, MY DEAR
With a series of tortuous devices bringing us back to the scene of our crimes: TV westerns, guns and drums your songs and flutes trilling and warbling we follow you back from the brink of our phony deaths. You make such international crises of the earth's spin and of planets you conquer on paper, we get back on. You take our alphabet, teach us it is disabled while you are surging something softly green bursting over walls and papers. We rouse from fantasies and foibles to your throbbing dancing syllables as though to lure them into crippled lexicons. But a dream keeps us sleeping. It is not your dream. You howl to be let in, then to be let out again until you wreck all dreaming, and what do you bring? Hollywood chess sets Monopoly games. With paints in hand, sandcastles at your feet costumed as princess gypsy teen-age dwarf pleading with us to come into your dream you are warm beagle-eyed young, great temptress! I say, Let's pretend I fit into your dream a moment but I, who am calloused past innocence, will be imaged wolf in grandma's gown. You win all the Monopoly games, checkmate my queen. I say, Here is my broken globe. Fix it.