Man and mouse holding hands, beholding

what they have done together.
A magic Marcelline, MO:

a portal to lands that beckon, but never compel.
Trees, silent water, castle walls dividing

off magic gardens and sacred
spaces.Tiki torches leading in

to a real rainforest with fake animals,
fedora'd adventurers and no dust

or hunger or poison. A whilring, infernal
rocket sprung from the mind

of Jules Verne, raisng your hopes that
one day you'll own that jetpack,

flying car, ticket to the moon.
A fairytale castle, draw-bridge down—

a glittering carousel inviting from behind forbidding walls.
A fort with wide open doors that fear only animatronic

Indians and where every frontiersman is a hero to be
emulated by your children.

You need not choose right away.
No need to be hasty. If you wish, you may

choose to stay here, to linger, the aroma of the popcorn
cart competing with the fragrance

of the popcorn blossoms on the sheltering trees
and the flowerbeds decorating, protecting

Walt's silent, inanimate memorial,
until the stars come out and

the crickets chirp in the voice of a
conscience content, and popcorn

lights form haunting outlines, constellations
telling whispered stories and seductively

suggesting that tomorrow you stand
in line for a new ride: falling in

love, signing the papers, applying
for that loan, giving it just

one more chance. Here, you cannot
sleep, but you will dream.

And rest in the heart, in the womb.