The Christmas Special
Dreamed 2012/4/13 by Chris Wayan
I'm trapped in a TV Christmas special, set
In a flurried airport. Grounded jet.
to find it full of living 'toons--cels, plush puppets,
Digitals, claymation. Sigh! No Jessica Rabbits.
A Green Man! Well, Cactus (luckily, few spines,
At last his neighbor, a reindeer puppet clear-
"Yeah, cactus and rein don't mix!" snickers the
and coach--a redolent Christmas tree alive,
The deer's a buck, despite that high
Club. I wanted Rudolf's doe for years;
Now I'm in the cockpit. Our liner's captain and
his daughter, eleven-yeared, clever-eyed,
argue yet again o'er her myriad fly
ing hours. "I cruised your jumbo! Ready to try
a full flight." Says Dad, "One more year."
handed to our next port. But cactus turbulence! He
Spirit--soul, clap your plastic hooves
doth our guardian chorus flap us downy safe unto
Though as I groggenwake, I concede it's true
"Soul clap hands and sing, and louder sing
for every tatter in its mortal dress"
But she can. And wants to. My Inner Child is more
ambitious than most. She needs a chance to soar.
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