Creek vs Crick

I discovered that dreams are poems and poems are dreams. I’ve also discovered that other things can be dreams and poems or poems and dreams. It came to me in the bathroom today.

I was washing my hands after I used a urinal. Some of the water from the sink ricocheted from my hands onto my pants. It was only a drop or two, but I panicked. I didn’t want people to think I had a weak stream, so I scooped more water onto my pants. I’d rather look like I can’t control my stream than have people think I have a little babbling brook, or worse, a creek or crick.

I walked out of the bathroom. People were staring at me. Their eyes were fixed on my crotch … a dream come true.