You felt like an animal. And a paper mask,. You roared like a man-eater. You pushed your tiny fingers. And touched a swell of fur. You roared like the lion.

From your cage of golden ribbons, you stare at tiny cities made of lights and golden organs. You stare at the palms of lion paws. You see more than bronzed fur and dirt stain. You see more than animal DNA. You see the feeling of dirt pushed under your sensory system. You see the feeling of dorsal root ganglion. You shake hands with your lion.

In the evening, you crawled into a lion-costume. Its face smelled like blood and its walls smelled like blood. Its nostrils smelled like the sky. Your new lower lion-jaw felt heavy. Your large lion-mane felt like a vice grip. You lied down on your back and watched as a black cloud moved across the high sun. You never knew this sun.

A planet-storm thrashed your cage from its air-canopy. This left you alone on the surface. In a cornfield you awoke with damaged hands and feeble muscles. A woman wearing a blue and white gingham dress approached you carrying two golden slippers. Before she had a chance to say. You asked her to set the slippers on the ground. You knew you would choke on the slippers while attempting to swallow her.

In the center of the cornfield is a mint-green trailer with several pink flamingos lining the property. The windows are blocked by pink curtains and the pink curtains used to be red curtains. While walking along in your warm lion-costume, you noticed the trailer as well as the star. You decided to ask the Hollywood Executive for directions to the nearest dry-cleaner.