clones of abraham lincoln

i will give you a penny for every dream my squirming
brain dreams you into.

there will be many pennies in an enormous marble urn
etched with fifers and leafy bunches of grapes. and they will
seem ordinary and sparkle in the sun, but of course when you
dip your hand inside they will melt, or they will all disappear.
or your finger will tear right through what turns out to be only
a delicate membrane of butterscotch pudding skin onto which
someone very clever has made countless bas-relief cameos
of abraham lincoln.

underneath will be a baby crocodile who bites your hand off
in one chomp. the bones in your wrist will protrude like the
spout of a toppled porcelain teapot, and your blood will be thick
seeded raspberry jam.

and the crocodile will swallow, and smile, and in a tiny
tattered etching twisted round the edge of the hole you
tore, abraham lincoln will wink, then pretend that he
didn't.

you are dreaming right now. here is a check for 400 million dollars.
there is an atm on the corner that abraham lincoln is using, and
many clones of abraham lincoln are waiting to use it in one long line
behind him, an S-curve slotted with top hats that glimmers faintly
and disappears into the distance.