Suppose!

Sacagawea consumed in flames,

blisters boil, erupt and heal

all over her body

except on her majestic golden face.

As you follow her in long Indian strides,

the cold dead concrete

morphs,

under your misformed clay feet,

into cathedral stain glass.

Light from the mourning man in the moon,

his molars rotting from his mouth,

his nose snatched by the Sphinx,

reflects off the red yellow green

blue scene of St. John’s crucifixion,

complete with

George and Paul hiding in a strawberry patch

and the townspeople washing their hands

with the wine

from St. John’s side.

To produce a rainbow fog,

the streets flood with roses and carnations.

You steal a green iron glove shaped boat

to navigate the petal canals.

Row past elephants walking on stilts,

jesters gleefully drowning,

buses and semis being towed by whales,

small children

with their pants rolled up

fishing for squirrels.

You come upon a creaky gray dock

and tie off your ill gotten vessel with marshmallow ropes.

A mist filled field waits before. 

Dark Headless Horseman trees

surrounding invisible borders.

tables made of books held together with chewing gum,

occupied by forgotten children,

fill it.

In your hand appears a pink pamphlet,

“So You Find Yourself In The (dum dum dum)

Valley Of The Damned…”

But a suit with no body

comes along and takes it away.

First table sits a hobo,

hair colored by the railroad earth,

marble eyes too small for their sockets,

flannel shirt of feathers

ruffles in the breeze.

“How do you do?” you ask.

In reply he sings,

“America, where else

can you go to bed

with a pauper and a prince?”

Next table, a dog

and a Gothic transvestite

eating soft watches.

“I’m gonna shake your ass!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Table behind them, a bald man

with the cat eyes holds

a gun

to a caterpillar’s head.

“I will let you live as soon as

you recognize

love and peace is the way to

happiness.”

You sprint back to your boat

to find 

an owl and a pussycat

whacking each other with spoons.

So you jump into the flower stream

and take a long breath

to let petals rush into your lungs.

Only to be saved by a gently stroking finger

raising goose bumps on your neck.

Suppose?