On My Way Here
Nick Ozment
I saw a headless dog,
a car with no driver driving,
a yellow dress fluttering in the wind,
a cloud of sorrow made manifest,
a man who had eyes in the front and back,
a woman with snakes for arms,
a mouth etched in whispering glass.
I came here simply to ask you:
Why do you look at me as if I am mad
When this has become our world?
