night wanderings

Sauntering through a well-lit museum

A komodo dragon devouring a man

Now that never happens

So this must be a dream

I am told as a woman

With a trolley of crocodiles

Leisurely picks out ostrich eggs

And feeds the crocs

By tossing these into the air

A local youth band

–Someone has contorted the brass section–

Plays with subdued enthusiasm

At the entry to a drug store

Which sells only ladies stockings

And toothpaste

Why did no one rescue the man being devoured,

I thought,

Because it is a dream,

Comes the answer.


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