what I dream about when I runabout thinking…
It was one of those heroic daydreams, me
quite by accident coming upon the drowning
child who’d swam too far for his own good
while his panicked mother, spying me as an
ally in the fray, runs and falls at my feet
with her breasts pressed hard against my
calves calling mi amor! mi amor! – a plea
any four loves devotee would perceive as
either storge or eros, but likely not both.
The fantasy melted as I noticed two ducks
dabbling on the surface of the real world,
their tails-up salute immediately flushing
my dream mid-stride so I then strained to
hear their submerged conversation. As best
I could tell the larger of the two quoted
Hemingway’s favorite line, the one used in
his private letters: Il faut, (d’abord) durer –
which is to say ‘one must, above all, endure.’
I sensed the smaller duck’s fear as he was
tipped much farther than ever before, like
a dream-dunked child convinced he will
drown if not for an accidental hero’s love.