Incubated

The model airplane is buttered with
Morning-light. Shelves and shelves

I roll over to get a sense of things
I slept with this anvil.

Oh, yeah…

While I was walking near the puddle the puddle
Was deep
Enough to sink a battle ship.
Curtains hung around the sidewalk.
These I passed through.
Feeling a heavy taxidermy,
My head protruded from the wallpaper.

A man emerged too, from the wallpaper
Could he borrow my telephone?
An envelope?
My breath formed conversation
On the incubator window.

At the beach, a machine with a wrecking ball
Spoke shyly of destruction.