What the Child Dreams after She’s Thrown a Tantrum A thousand and one hills of toys On fire, under a yellow moon, Trees yawning into a blue valley. Wild animals all a-fang as they nose Cautiously from the bracken. A mighty crack of thunder. Trucks buzzing down the pass, Spilling dazzling cargo at her feet In reverence, in awe-spangled worship. She is five years old, and she is here As queen to welcome them all To the great debacle of her rage. She tells them, tonight will be their night To confess, all the accidents They’ve almost had while trying To drive and eat tacos at the same time, And all the lane changes they’ve made Without using blinkers, but mostly How they’ve left their daughters, Wives, sons, alone in the houses of the mind. Please forgive us, please understand What it takes just to keep our eyes open Between the long interstates of night. O how they’ll grasp her hem and pray. O yes how they’ll beg her. | 
