Sitting on the fold of his tongue,

In the neon red glow of the dinosaur’s mouth, 

They casted their shadows against the back

of his plastic teeth and talked

about bicycles and Paris.

The cuffs of his jacket still smelled like dish soap. 

Lately, people keep saying how powerful

and

big my presence is.

I never really believe

I have command over anything.

I don’t have to sleep tonight to know pathetic

and small as it is:

in my dreams you still love me.

———————-

This is not a good poem, but perhaps it is one of the more interesting poems written about Pee Wee’s Big Adventure?