In the dream I am trying to write
a poem about gravel.
A seven year old girl comes up
and asks if she can write it. I say yes

I like sand and pretty stones

but gravel can be bad news
like when you get some in your shoes

And like sometimes on the highway
when it jumps up from tires of big trucks

and makes stars in our brand new window
and mommy says words that I don’t know

You can make castles out of sand