In a dream
I do not chase you
down the hall

We are in a strawberry patch
where you’ve run out of class
and I am so small
but you smaller still

the plants
surpass my shoulders
I sink and smile

you giggle and I
explain you have to wait
for the fruit to grow

the briars here
are not so harmful though

another student runs by
with a wreath
and you give chase
explaining the strawberries
are waiting
while grabbing an under ripe one
admissible permissible
allowed

safely afoot
in the grass
you grow

fee-fi-fo-fum fading

…

bewitched enchanted absorbed
not often enough

concrete tells us there’s nothing more;
it’s simple: the city planners were wrong