Dream of a toy convention, metallic tabletop toys whirring and winking
But making no noise. The gods made me a wanderer,
And then nobody wanted to be me, not even me.
I stayed at the toy convention all night and woke frantic
Thinking I had overstayed and been captured by a cult
Disguised as a pyramid scheme, disguised as a corporation
Calling itself Nococco. I woke up already destitute
It would seem by my own design, no one to blame, no one to sue,
Silly me. Drove back south from autumn into dwindling summer,
Checked into the inn on the Clark Fork River, imagined it
At the bottom of a giant lake, then emptying in the great flood,
Then running out, running dry. It's only the movement of passing water
Gives the illusion of a river. As much as I am afraid of pain
When dying, I want to rush out to meet death with joy when I die.
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