The lamp is broken and the floor squeaks. But hitting snooze is the food of the gods, and there they all are, side by side in the light of Mount Olympus or Zion or one of the others, glowing a bright black shadow light through clouds and clear sky - floating to the heavens or from them and back again with sirens blaring and look - there’s a squirrel - she has an ice cream cone and watches TV alone with her mother, now Fred Astaire, and ginger bread - then downtown with the shadows which become mountains as the sirens get louder, and Oh Zeus Of Lightning She Is Awake.