Frogman speaks to me in my sleep.
He talks in hums.
They mostly are one note and remain one, being held for 35 minutes in woken time
(that’s very long in sleep time).
Sometimes there is more than one voice.
Frogman was conceived in a magical bubble bath
when two water molecules decided to pursue love
in the emptiness of the busy bubble bath
which imbued premature convictions of what it was like to move on one’s own accord.
They escaped fluidity and entered the trappings of
Those trappings came when Frogman spoke a human word.
That was the only human word he ever spoke.
After that, he learned to hum.
His music welded his being with that of the clouds.
He moves like clouds and sings like clouds.
His voice rains on all of the water molecules,
and his raindrops explore the wonders of the water molecules,
and sooths their confidence of knowing things, returning them to the state of mind of a baby.
And he sings to me in my sleep.