Seventy years after Popeye Squeezed a can of spinach Into my comic book life, Barnacle Bill, Olive Oyl's other suitor, Knocked on my door in the midst of a dream. Despite a slight unease At the late hour, I opened the door impulsively, Thinking it might be the painter, Come to repaint my room. But there, indeed, filling the door frame Was Barnacle Bill, Just as big, but not as menacing As I recall him being. He asked, wistfully, if I remembered him. How sensitive, I thought. How vulnerable. But not waiting for his menacing side to return, I hit the reality switch, Which, by law, every dream is required to have, And woke up, gratefully.