by Dorien Grey
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Written for a class at Los Angeles Community College, 1967
We'll hide under the rug until they leave.
It's dark in there, and warm.
We'll tell each other stories, and laugh,
and I'll sing you a song a little girl sang to me
when we were young and looked at clouds.
I was a prophet once...did you know that?
I told people things they did not want to know
and saw things I could not see.
I thought cobweb thoughts, and once I saw God.
They don't like us, you know?
Them with their catacomb-dead minds.
We're funny to them--not 'ha-ha' but 'ah-ha!'
They sit there munching dull ideas
and spitting out cliches.
We can go swimming, too! Would you like that?
I'll be a whale and you can be a merman;
we'll dance where the waters are purple-dark
and play with all the sailors' ghosts.
Oh, all right.
Here, before you go--have a toadstool.
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