Bears and cars and my grandmother
and the time I forgot my shoes
before a game;
Sometimes I’m the hero,
Sometimes I’m afraid;
Muff, the dog I had when I was a kid,
being late for the bus
Clowns? Why clowns?
I’m not afraid of clowns.
At least I don’t think I am.
There’s the one about the dentist and
Bobby Joe yelling at me.
One time I jerked awake trying to
stop that man with the gun;
I’m pretty sure I did but I can’t
The ones that make me crazy are when someone
I know shows up but she isn’t in her
or he isn’t.
I mean his voice is the same and he’s saying things he
but he looks like someone I’ve never met;
The one where I see her in the crowd
and I keep trying to
make my way to her but never get any closer;
I think that means
I’ll never have six-pack abs;
Maybe I shouldn’t eat before bedtime or should get a book
to interpret them,
or go to Delphi and try to find the Oracle;
Or maybe I’m just in the Matrix,
Or maybe my brain is just a playground
of memories and hopes and
fears and love;
I have to go to work.
Dreams are weird.
Probably, this poem is too.