Friday, October 31, 2008


would say that the
Hippopotamus is
balding, for no one
hates a hippo,
but the hippo, he is
almost hairless.

If you were to
see a hippo with
a luxurious mane
of hair you would
probably wake up
because it would
have to be a dream.

Other possibilties:

You could stay asleep,
and watch him go
to the barber and
ask for a little ‘off
the top’ because he
is unusually vain
with his rich, luxurious
Fabio-like mane of
hair that you usually
don’t see on a hippo.

Or you could die in
your sleep and no one
would know that you
spent your last moments
in a zoo barber shop
kind of place bewildered
by something that was
frankly unusual, no one
would deny that if they
were with you and really
existed so that they could
live to tell the tale of your
dreams at others. I wish
that could happen.


Are you actually
the kind of guy
that dreams about

Or girl?

(You could be a girl)

Or hippopotamae?

Or river horse?

Caught you. A river
horse IS a hippopotamus.
RIVER. I am guessing, Greek.

Although that says more
about me than about you
or other even-toed ungulates–
for example, I like hippos
and water. And big, barrel-
chested big guys. Hippos.
I like hippos.

But I haven’t discovered
everything I want to know
about you and your dreams
for now, and also I am tickled
pink that they don’t kill
you. I like you.

Later I want more.

For instance: I would like
to know if you emerge
from the river at dusk
to graze on grass,
gaze a little at the sun,
and, if you do, sometimes
do you feel a little sad, and
almost extinct.

No comments:

Real Time Analytics