Sometimes, when he’s riding
in the car with me, he lets me
into his world.  He opens
the wardrobe filled
with fur coats, and we walk
into the snow-covered dominion
where he is king, and I his servant.
What is your bidding, My Master?
A bite to eat, a trinket to add
to his hoarded assemblage.
Suddenly, we’re thrust back
to reality, a place not nearly
as delightful, but for a little while
his kingdom flourished.