At dawn he watches the Angel Fish
in his bubbling aquarium choreograph
through a burst of dried flies
and leap to the light
Laying in the backyard grass,
sunshine warming his face,
he sees parading ants carry
their war dead off the battlefield
The throne at the peak
of the box elder tree
hides him from approaching
enemy soldiers
General One eye, mouth sagging,
guards the gate of the house
next door where the blond girl
waves at him over the fence
His sister’s old doll’s head,
an oracle, warns him,
“Beware the crazy lady,
third house from the corner”
Elm trees form leafy tunnels
for him to pedal and pedal
up to the constellations
for a crossing in Taurus
At dusk on his front porch
he sees the whole world,
its oceans, palm tree groves
and streetlight stars
He hears surf against curbstones,
bongos, a distant macaw,
strums on the rubber bands
of his shoebox guitar
Before sleep he weighs anchor,
spreads his arms for sails,
tacks into choppy waters
bound for Tahiti