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.