That Kind of Dawn
 
There's something about
jellybeans and pulled taffy
and the words you type
when your fingers
are on the wrong key,

a mistranslation of
the moment's universe,
an upending of what is known,
like coffee pouring up
instead of down or
midnight in the morning.

It's that kind of dawn, you see.
There are dragons eating cheese
in the refrigerator.

An opossum is reading
the newspaper in the driveway
and won't give it to me
till he's finished.

I smile at you and we both laugh.
We dance naked in our minds.
Poems fall out of the trees
like cherries.