SHIFTING FROM ONE
DREAM TO ANOTHER
Some days nothing is real at all; not
even the shiftless real. I walk from
place to place in a dream, trying to
determine originations. Did that occur?
Or was that yet more dream?
-
A coat with a large collar offers me solace.
I can hide, but I can't run? The buttons
and zippers of an earthly existence are
mostly all yet working, but frayed thread
and a weakening lining give me worry.
-
Oh, no bother, I'll just move along. That
lady over there has hands like talons; she
seems predatory. Malignant? Evil? Her
companion, the small man with the Euro
look, I bet he's French or Alsatian? See
how he takes cover from her, and not
the other way around.
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