Popcorn

"Please remember 

the milk 

from the store," 

that's what the note says. 

But it doesn't matter anyway 

because his mind, his memory, stays sharp as a tack. 

I stand there, wind knocked out of me. 

In front of me: his majesty. 

Quickly I bow as not to anger, 

And the king raises his hand to keep order. 

The room falls silent, 

For a long time 

I'd have vivid dreams,  

bursts of REM that gave me the illusive bliss 

of being wherever 

and the closest return  

to the mind of a child