I was on a bus

for a long ride –

the Lions Gate Bridge

(a conveyor belt),

the North Shore Mountains

(loaves of bread).

I was tired. I made a bed

on the back bench. In the aisle

there was a bucket of water

and floating in it

a doll’s fancy dress, no more

than twelve inches long. It seemed

that someone was inside, but, no –

it was only a dress. A lanky man

ogled it and smacked his lips.

What have we here?