Since becoming a mother
   she always dreamed of
a god leaping out of her computer screen.

Always reassured herself
   someone is on his way
to pluck the moon for her.

Always thought of the town’s idiot
   who got swept off her feet to Carribean.

When good moods allowed
   she cycled downtown
main-squared shopping for fools
   lounging in track suits.

She wore her heels and jewels all the time
   sounding like broken wind chimes
when she turned in her sleep
   mistaken for church bells
in her dream’s wedding.

A bundle of pink trousers, washed out blue flannel,
   frail and balding, a phrase book clutched in hand
was what managed to make the great leap
   so far.

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