Once I dreamed
of Neptune— it seemed
I could tell from his hue and armor.
It’s clear to keen,
who know dead can dream,
that others might visit my head too.
He raked and racked
through my brain and laughed
for my smartest cell was ordinary.
It stung like slap,
and he wanted that,
for he analyzed me as he sat.
He joked like friend
and I ignored then
that he was fishing for details of mine.
He then got up,
gave me gossip and stuff,
and spread my information online.