he bought rockets. We’d been to the moon a couple of times already.
It frightened me to do so. But he wanted to go again.
So he gets in his car and I get in mine. And soon the ambulances
pass us by and soon again I’ve come upon a massively devastating pile-up!
I get out and look for his car. It’s nowhere to be seen. Dead bodies
are surely in each smoking vehicle. The pine trees catch fire.
I can’t help anyone. I’m chickenshit just like he always said.
I get back in my car and drive backwards, turn off at another road,
find his car parked at his house. He’s asleep. The new rocket’s in his backyard.
He’s a shar pei, asleep, face down, arms and legs out, flaps of wrinkled skin
going the various ways of gravity. The dream ends somewhere. I’m
home by 2:30 after crying on Divisadero with Nina Simone in my ears
Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel...
