Page 85 of The Bread We Eat in Dreams

So this guy walks into a dragon’s lair

and he says

why the long tale?

HAR HAR BUDDY

says the dragon

FUCK YOU.

The dragon’s a classic

the ‘57 Chevy of existential chthonic threats

take in those Christmas colors, those

impervious green scales, sticky candy-red firebreath,

comes standard with a heap of rubylust

goldhuddled treasure.

Go ahead.

Kick the tires, boy.

See how she rides.

Sit down, kid, says the dragon. Diamonds

roll off her back like dandruff.

Oh, you’d rather be called a paladin?

I’d rather be a unicorn.

Always thought that

was the better gig. Everyone thinks

you’re innocent. Everyone calls you

pure. And the girls aren’t afraid

they come right up with their little hands out

for you to sniff

like you’re a puppy

and they’re gonna take you home.

They let you put your head right

in their laps.

But nobody on this earth

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