Dream

Here is a world were I wear
goggles
in my bed,
to inject my eyes with an adventure,
be it literal or sexual
or even
spiritual.
Benign responsibilities now resting
limply
in my jeans and laughing at comedic lips parting against bathroom walls.

Handprints,
handprints,
handprints working their way from the kitchen to the bedroom,
telling a story about trapeze-walking human
mantises!

With a girlfriend all covered in wires,
(but proud to declare herself wireless!)
and a sad or depressing handshake to sleep,
now in a slippery coma and
waking up to a biological regret,
like the first man,
the first one-night stand.

And I could kill a total popu
lation,
decimate lives like tangible fractions,
my dirty red button throbbing,
throbbing,
throbbing and swearing and personifying the Devil himself!

Riding behind the Tragic Cowboy,
now jingling cancer and dragging my feet by a rope,
and he is shooting blanks on a quest to slay The Android.

No longer alive,
but no closer to Death,
only lost in the Valley of the Lily,
in a mist.
And I am green and blue,
and soil and the sea,
now experiencing that awkward moment
when one learns that one
is only
a character in
someone
else's
dream.