A Giraffe in My Lap


Photo from better photo.com

A giraffe in my lap. Crying

giraffe, lost on my way to dinner, howling

silly drunk giraffe. Its head in my lap.

Also, my grandma, only lucid.

Understanding where we’re going.

My sister dressed in sweatpants,

or maybe blue corduroy.

Father, only irritated

(I wasn’t catching on; not yet

fully submerged in the dream).

And he was there, folding over me,

shining a smile down like an invitation.

I accepted, but I wasn’t asleep

enough to believe it.

The silly talk of dinner:

pasta with sauce?

eggs and toast?

The kids scoffed at my ideas.

Thrashing, I’m gasping,

struggling to the surface.

Never fully left the

sun-warmmed couch cushions.

I can’t believe it’s still

the same afternoon.

quick naptime free-write


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