Ear to the, uh, Wall
Dreamed 1983/10/10 by Wayan
In a rough log shelter, I meet my Myst-
ear-ious Grandma and her yuppies; lie
longside. Stare at the shifting sky.
Comical pillow clouds scud by. Dust
strings hang from roof to spider-writhe
in faintest zephyr. But they're not just
web. A mammal clumb down to weave
Letters in de thread! A message pri-
vate if not primate. One word for me.
Can a chipmunk spy?
I am. A spy.
Rodent weaver's gone. But
I join their table round. Why do they
I walk out. Mock-primadonna, don't flee
Later, in a hazy bar, I met
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