I'm driving a big car that doesn't steer or stop very well. All the other cars each have two mean dogs who snarl at me. Pass a car with two bitches in it--is that symbolic? Nah. The next one's two males.

Enter the city. Too much noise, cars, smog, dogs. I want out. Want to U-turn, but the signs forbid it and there's a central divider-wall...

I do it anyway, steer straight into the wall! And as I crash, my clumsy car LEAPS! Leaps, as it grows bigger and softer and taller and hairier and spotted. As it grows into... a giraffe. A giraffe with wheels for hooves, a giraffe rollerskating down the freeway, out of town.

I climb high up the giraffe's neck, behind its head, like a pirate up a mast. What a view! And as we rollerskate toward freedom, I serenade the oncoming rubberneckers, at the top of my lungs:

"I'm just mad about Saffron,
she's just mad about me...
I'm just mad about 14-year-old girls,
they're just mad about me...
They call me Mellow Yellow!"

Or steal bananapeels and smoke vibrators.

The other commuters swerve, honk, tangle and gridlock. I can hear them arguing whether I really sang what they thought I sang--obscene, criminal!

But from up my giraffe, my calm, gentle, mellow, yellow giraffe... I can't help but laugh.

SOURCE: "Mellow Yellow", late 1960s, by Donovan Leitch. Dreamed without permission.

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