It was one of those days that made me worry
I had fallen down that elevator shaft into
someone else’s dream. All morning I thought
of it, queasy, stirring my coffee with a pencil,
sharing my bathroom stall with a Lipizzaner,
who I think blushed as much as I. The angora
rabbit in the cubicle next to mine sprayed her
plastic roses with a violet-scented air freshener
until I sneezed my chair into the conference room.
The woodchucks paused with vague hostility,
then continued their power-point presentation.
I finally realized I had forgotten to wear pants
and there was turtle clamped around my crotch.
Closing time was early, around 3, because of
the holiday the following Monday or because
there was a fire in a boat somewhere off the
coast of our mother. I gave up trying to get off
my turtle with a fork and decided to ride a mule
home, rather than the subway,
though it was
a bit more