Alice ran away on a plank road,
driving slivers into worn-out soles
until she found herself once again
in the Looking Glass. Now she peers in
and fogs it up, anxiously awaiting
the next scheduled departure.
She expects fireworks upon arrival,
a spectacle put on just for her
under The Clouds of Aristophanes,
with a boys' choir from Zambia
and patriotic bunting
tacked to the vaulted sky.
The Birds will shower her
with praise and good fortune.