DWARFMAN'S
REPEATING DREAM
So that then becomes the problem which wasn't
the problem to begin with, but that's how things
develop, don't they always? Oh, man. And remember,
it's 12:20 at night and in the bleak, hot darkness two
motorcycles pull up bleating outside the house.
Two guys are outside yelling 'come on outside
and see my new motorcycle!' And there they were,
both sitting, waiting - and the loud snap of straight
pipes and motor-engine-idle covers the street staccato,
like gunshot, and the one big guy, the huge, fat joyous
one, stays seated on his motorcycle while the other big,
tall and blond guy gets off standing next to his new
motorcycle and someone else is looking at it just as
I too am, looking, witnessing the entire scene, thinking
back to anything before anything, and it all therefore
seems senseless and all without weight but loaded anyway,
and I try to move away but realize maybe I'm dreaming
and I hear the two of them laughing just as loudly over
any of the other noises and I can go nowhere because
(just like in a dream) I am essentially nowhere and I start
in the same way to think of women's names arrayed and
listed and all in a row : Lydia, Linda, Sarah, Jill, Mary,
Ellen, Lisa, Dawn, Donna, Kathy, Margaret, Sue - and
I settle onto the fact that it - like the bible - is a probably
endless list and so it can go on and it does and I've so many
things to do but am shackled by something which is
keeping me here but that something is unidentified
by day and night by any form of light.
No comments:
Post a Comment