22:53 - 03:37

Clump and swamp, splish-splash in the sewer,

the friends I thought followed were numbered fewer

than before. How curious?

Tight narrow windily winding spindle barrowed walls

Echoing calls but oddly quiet through and out and in.

Wasn't there a stranger that shouted, not my mate but his brother

And three people from work in trip-trap clip-clop step with each other? But now,

It was the moon and I, the tunnel's funnel opening and growening,

the space that narrowed and burrowed with the bars that bit at the end;

I think I was Spider-man for a spell, that man with the yell on his tongue

Told me "to fly you idiot what's the point if you don't run and leap and" flung

myself into ceiling heart reeling cartwheeling. Less hero swinging more

Lift-a-dipping slide skimming in the air above the brother o'mate,

Man irate,

Sam, Billy, Nate-

The bars that bit and chomped and chewed as the passage to a throats size shrunkily zoomed,

Didn't really matter, grin-biggily I giggly flewed

Through and through and Through

The bars out here to the Moon. In a different light

I landed, took a step, a quick breath in the water about my ankles,

tried to walk but only leaned and angularly spangled forward,

The wet floor treadmilled as I rotate and then

I gasp, clutch and think,

Draw breath and blink,

Blink again, rub my eye of that heavy silk sleep.

I recall what I can of the dream,

The sights and sounds, the orange brick of the passage walls, how it felt to grin that wide.

He had the uniform, but I've never worked with Nate.

I check my phone, the time, the alarm.

It’s late.

The flying was fun.