That morning a man was seen
pushing a white wheelbarrow
down Main Street. He was
looking for used bed springs.
Tulips were ticking underground
but they were dug up by matadors
looking for terrorists
before they could explode.
I found a squirrel in the bread basket.
Tiny parachutists were floating in the sunbeam
angled through the dormer window.
I ate a chocolate-covered cherry
while sitting in a rocking chair
lost on choppy waters.
These were the questions
still to be answered:
Who rang the doorbell ten minutes ago?
Who will shoot the President next time?
Who placed the ladybug on my ring finger?
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