The rush-hour drive transformed, we approach
from the march that protects the magical
forest I inhabit. Closer we creep
and the skyline’s a mystery.
I’ve never seen these fantastical
castles he counts, six, seven, eight!
Eight, shouting and there must
be dragons. I’m driving; it’s cloudy,
but he can see these radiant beings
with the superpowers his great
grandmother sewed into his cape.
How to appease a sad boy
whose genuine entreaties are ignored?
Please come. I offer a large crow
but suddenly the enchanted
creature is in the back seat.
His name is Jerry and he’s friendly
so the chances he’ll scorch us
are slim. Turn this way, my storyteller
directs, but I’m in the wrong lane
and he’s on his way home.
We leave the skyscrapers
to their work opening up the realms
of newness reserved for the most brilliant
stars among us, here to remind
and include all things lovely
curious and highly improbable.
When I drive home later, alone
in this new landscape, my sight
changes, the noose of reality
loosens and I can’t stop grinning.