Daydreaming

me and you, a green plunger
and a turnip, could sit in an
onion cage atop the jungle,

and

maybe i’d call you pumpkin
and meet you upside-down
at the end of a 2-story slide,

’cause

i’m on this dragon’s saddle
waiting for it to spit you out,

but

though this city is called a
possible metropolis where
only the adults may swim,

you

are swimming in a desert
far away, and i am floating
on a fairytale, never to hold

your hand.

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