Something happened as I slept. 
 
The fantasies that buzz and hum around me now are replacements. 
 
I once knew and ordered people according to their dreams and representations thereof. 
 
What I find sketched on the pavement these days would seem to involve legless patriots screeching "Move That Bus!" while hordes of shameless strangers weep quietly and dab their noses with lotion-infused tissues.