Last night I dreamt of a titan

It promenades in as strong as a hurricane, stirring the Atlantic ocean. It was a one in a million chance. It was as if Florence, Italy and Elvis Presley met; it was a madhouse. 

Voices in fear screaming “Oh my god” as the colossal elephant swarms the plaza. 

After 5 minutes, all that was left was a bright, lime green ceinture. 

To the right was someone in the back of a cop car banging their head on the window. 

No words could describe the chaos. It was as if Clancey spilt an iced vanilla latte on himself, or Jodi Picoult used “that’s dope” in her new novel.

The stomping of birkenstocks slowly approach.

Una persona dice “¡Qué mono!”

And suddenly there is a cry for a doctor. Not even Harriet Tubman or warm breakfast potatoes could fix this. 

“Katherine, what have you done”