In 7th or 8th grade I composed this poem in a dream and recorded it when I woke up.
I think it strange
that I would ride
a car of dreams
or train of thought;
still I think it funny not.
It’s amazing how things can fade,
like the tinge on an apple
or a beautiful glade
So here I am,
with a banana as a bandana
and a sheep as a jeep,
blowing Nazis to hell and smithereens.
I wouldn’t like it to end this way,
but they are out to get me, say,
it would be me or them in the end.
Like the camel and his “humph”
people say, oh, it’s fair that way
but they aren’t in his body, are they?