The Night I Was a Dragon
All the innocents look up. I don’t know them, but they are scared. It is my fire they fear so hot, coming out of my mouth. I am flying too fast to see their faces. I don’t think I know them, though I’m not looking closely enough to tell. I almost envy their world, the one they hardly believe in anymore; the one they have forgotten somehow, along the way. Nothing prepares you for the regret of doing only what you were asked to do, of not doing what you wanted to. But you don’t know that as you maneuver, effortlessly, over shadowed horizons, over submerged imaginations, once infinite and fine. This is what you believe: I could not see their faces. And if you were me, what would you have done? I accelerate. It is time to go home.