Rocksteady in Dimension X

No longer interested in evil, the soul turns on its back at the watering hole, kicks its muscled legs. Everything goes neon pink and green in the noonday sun when I press my thumbs to my little black eyes. My snout, wet with its own abundant grease, smells nothing of threat, of consequence. I put my hands behind my head, I have no bidding to do. My feet go up on the desk, a woman appears at my side. This is what I’ve earned in Eden. The right to close my eyes when the camouflage trousers come wading through the apple blossom’s slough — and the dream of myself as a baby emerging from the mortal body, hoof by gleaming hoof.