with japan on the other line

asking me for autographs from Godzilla

in hopes to compare with those from

their sushi monster,

i listen to you yell

for fried fish and a bottle of saki.

but you convinced me

that you'll be a pirate with a

sailor growl just as rough as the rest of them.

and that way as we walk

from department store to department store,

stalking the belt racks,

i can be your translator.

for your language

is toned up from native talk

and surly if they found out

we'd get hanged.

but after our adventure

we can dive into another,

like i dive every other tuesday into a bowl of lime green jello.

and then a loud beeping goes off

and it's the alarm for fires.

and then a loud beeping goes off

and it's the alarm for smoke.

and then i realize

it's just the microwave.

open the door and

bugs fall from warm bread.

bread rub.

bread rub time.

i place it on my head

and immediately

thoughts of unicorns eating sunflowers

come rushing in.

and i feel much better.

but with a bed empty and a floor full

i practice walking on the ceiling

while standing on my head.