I started Early – Took my Dog – (656) A prose rewrite of Emily Dickenson I started early and took my dog and visited the sea. The mermaids in the basement came out to look at me. And frigates in the upper floor extended their hempen hands, presuming me to be a mouse aground upon the sands. But no man moved me till the tide went past my simple shoe and past my apron and my belt and past my bodice too, and made as he would eat me up as wholly as a dew upon a dandelion’s sleeve. And then I started too and he followed close behind. I felt his silver heel upon my ankle. Then my shoes would overflow with pearl! Until we met the solid town (no one he seemed to know) and bowing with a mighty look at me, the sea withdrew.