lying contentedly
between clean sheets
slightly afraid
of dark shadows
staring
thru cowboy curtains
into a starry sky
heavy sleep
prevails
dreaming of heaven
i’m the littlest angel
white mist rolling
softly around
my itchy feet
surrounded by spirits
dressed in brilliant robes
with silver wings
and golden halos
playing harps
with no beat
afraid to look up
god rests
upon a radiant throne
of some strange metal
with a mask on
carved,
the face of a lion
curiously
peace becomes annoying
my halo falls off
and i can’t find it
“damned fog!”
the procession gathers
“you are a disgrace”
darting to the throne
i rip away the mask
and the assembly’s
mouths drop open
for all exists
is black rolling ink
on a motionless frame
in a lead chair
hovering
over my bed
i awaken
to mother’s smile
reassuring
she wipes my brow
and leads me
to the kitchen
eating cookies
i try to explain my dream
but a roach runs out
from under the sink
to be efficiently crushed
‘neath frightened feet
Houston, Texas ‘81
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