In all my daydreams’ dining rooms,
you are folding pancakes.
With flour on your pajama legs—
the hollows hushed with Mandrakes.
All our neighbors don’t like Nazis.
News headlines are mundane.
As the early morning paper
grows and softens in the rain.
In all of my made-up bedrooms,
You always make your bed.
With a Wolfhound warm within it
or lightning bugs at your head.
Cr...