George W. Bush: On His Final Dream

I was a giant. Laura too. We were so big
we crushed the roofs of houses as we walked
to buy eggs. We wanted to go home. Talked
about it almost all the time. My wig
made me look like George Washington. A pig
squealed, a tiny thing like a mouse. A squawk
from a small crow then. We were on the ark,
but in a drought. Our boat on dry land. Fig
trees. Little fig trees. Laura took my hand.
The boat rolled like a bus. Going home at last.
Farther south, we jumped out a window. Land
smelled better. Horses and sheep. Nice high grass
to our necks. Huge tomatoes. Peas and beans.
I was flea-sized. Laura, too. Life's so mean.