The sky becomes rivulets in your eyes
That ferry dust motes in disguise, bubble
Vision. There's Pig Woman or her double,
Automaton as yet in tow, drawn back
To the rowdy scene of flying food. Whack!
She drops the leash, you seize your chance and snatch
(Snatch back, you think) the pig — a perfect match!
Now up the Loracs' steps, not to rile 'em,
You seek shelter, refuge, or asylum.