Little Bill peeks over the fence--
dolphins (propulsive!) up in the air,
fins glistening, flicking water onto
Bill's white tee-shirt; he shrinks;
the dolphins are too sleek (flash!),
too charged, a vision from fairy myth.
Bill wakes up weeping, peeks out
his window; "backyard green tree
cemetary dawn"; thinks of crispy
bacon, viscous maple syrup,
the fluttering lift of Mom's apron.
He wants to eat & eat. He wants
eggs to push the dolphins out of
his guts. He wants the calm gaze
of the morning sun on the curtains--
not the dolphins too-crazy gaze.
It was fire & thunder, a nightmare. Little
Bill hopes he never has another dream.