By J.D. Nelson
38th & Ringsby.
“Relax,” I said, “this is only a dream.”
“Don’t tell me to relax,” I said.
I stole a coat and warmed right up.
I found myself in a ditch,
eating rabbit and belching.
I was number one-oh-one, or something.
“The burgers are done, you guys,” I said.
Something about the World Series,
trying to outrun buffalo.
I’d forgotten to rewind my finger.