It began with the yellow terry-cloth trousers

They took, not kept; to bury, not steal. A dream.

It was a northeast summer shore, the sand gray.

Rage maddened me in my sleep. I'll destroy you,

You bastards, I'll tear you to pieces, furniture,

Window-glass, your children's toys, and then you.

What have I done to you? Give me my clothes.

They were lost, I found them. Give them back to me.

I whimpered in early morning sleep, and woke,

And lay miserable in my bed a long time alone,

Wondering, my murderous hate quieted a little.

Who is it I want to kill? I want to kill someone.

Who for no reason robs me? Somebody does.

Not the two beach-friends, our cottages and wives

At our backs. I never saw them till this dream.

When I was wide awake, I thought with pleasure

Of the power in me dredged up out of the dark

To wreck. It drove me for days to do good work.