ISSUE: Autumn 1997
Lift me in your arms, I want to be a grownup again.
Now make the pig run away and do dangerous things,
then catch him and shake your finger.
One of the other animals is already broken.
I drove through the night and slept in your room,
too sad to fear a ghost before daybreak.
The best doctor never wore his white coat.
Such a gentle dream, not invasive, where I’m you
playing that old game for my daughter—
“Piggy I warned you, don’t come crying to me.”