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Old Dream
I remember we were at the foothills
Of a backyard mountain.
Well, it seemed a mountain
To us, anyway.
We couldn't even figure out
How to climb
But at least the sun was at our backs.
As we sank baby fingers
Into soil sides
And slid off
With dirtier palms.
Hungry to know
What lay at the impossible top.
So we waited around
And grew.
Built rope
And tricked others
Into lifting us,
Or "giving us a boost"
As we'd so positively put it.
It was a tough climb
But in the end
We triumphed
And looked behind
Wondering if
The path we trekked
Was more important
Than the destination we shined so bright
Within our minds.
Staring down now and thinking
How we've got to keep
From sinking...
Questioning the futility
Of our existence
And temporary fertility.
So then we're old,
Scabbed,
With pangs of blackness
Round the corner.
Sometimes I wonder how my grandparents sleep
Knowing almost certain
Eyelids may not open
Like shut windows
Draped by hospital curtains.
And when the sun sets
On our precious tokens
Flipped into the bottom
Of a broken well
We'll lose our focus.
Shivering
And questioning
Why shade feels cold.
I've felt this once before --
In a dream
My body fell into
A mortal stream
While skin
Rejected the moistened cream
And I shriveled up
Into a raisin man.
As all my substance
Seeped out through a pore --
I shed my overcoat of sin
And was left formless
On the fucking floor...
