They never understood urban,
these little green men with their
florotechnology.

"But I like riding on dinosaurs better than dumb old minivans," said Benji.

Five women stretched
on narrow white beds
boasting about former
perambulation.

We only talk now on growing days -
Dad checks my span and shoots me up.

The ship is hot; it backfires
in the last row of corn, and there is popcorn in the night

   Tam Lin's baggage hides a dowry of one dozen gold cups, faery gold and reeking of under-the-hill.
   Eyes stinging, she scours them with Comet.