Perchance to Dream

On a night without stars
I am walking down the middle of a street,
with cars parked along both curbs
and talking to someone in a white van.

A large brown dog,
wearing a stamp with a politician's politician's picture on it,
is standing statue still in front of us.

Only the dog,
myself,
and the person in the van
are in my dream.

The dog bits my left leg,
and I am lost
in a river at dawn,
the light of the sun
glows so bright
that it blinds my mind.

On a night without stars,
I dream of a dog biting my leg,
and I am walking on azure waters
that chill the wind's hot tears.

Azure waters flow,
down slime wet halls,
washing away the charcoal terror
of night,
and red wine suges
across the glowing rime of winter.

Only the dog talks;
announces casting calls
for cost cutting
politicians.


This poem is posted in my writing.com port in the journal Melting Snow.