Plastic Parade

I had a dream

I was marching in a plastic parade.

We sucked on colorful candy,

and wrappers littered the streets

as we went merrily along.

The crowd looked happy

Until the sun grew too hot

and smiles began to melt

like runny makeup.

The streets softened beneath our feet.

Plastic boiled, black smoke billowed,

and soon the sun disappeared

behind what we’d made.

Only darkness remained.

Then Kali,

mother of destruction and death,

rose through the smoke

and laughed—

this is what she intended after all.

I was cold.

I was alone.

I was afraid.

Then the winds came,

and the smoke began to clear.

Slowly, the light returned.

I stood alone

in a sea of melted plastic.

Kali approached,

curved sword in hand.

Death glinted in her eye,

and I knew my time had come.

I closed my eyes.

The blade fell.

But I did not die.

Something split—

not flesh,

but a shell so close to me

I’d mistaken it for myself.

Piece by piece,

it fell away.

I hadn’t realized

how much it weighed.

And there I stood,

a boy again,

like Eustace Scrubb

beneath Aslan’s claws,

freed from the dragon’s skin

he could not shed alone.