Dream a Little Dream
Is this possible,
dreaming a dream within a dream?
(If not, dream a little dream of a cup of coffee at Red’s! Hey, it’s time to live a little!
just don’t dream of me. I’m not the right guru. I wouldn’t go to Starbuck’s
if it was the last coffee house on earth! Why? Because, everyone walks a path there! OK, you don’t walk, you go through the drive thru. So, big deal! All those Technicalities get in the way!)
Yet, It was so sudden
(but, welcomed, indeed!)
Such is one which took place in
Now, some say there’s a better
place to live.
But, you might fall asleep waiting
for old Red to speed up that clunky old coffee machine!
Although, I don’t know what the big damned hurry would be
if you decided to take my lame assed advice and drive clear the hell out in the
middle of nowhere!?
Now, even though I’d tend to agree
whole heartedly with a glimmer
of worrisome doubt
that there just might be some place
better than my California to live in,
those kinds don’t seem to hang around
long enough to describe whether that locale
exists within another dimension, country,
(therefore, please let me know if they happen to tell you, and I’ll live there until it begins to sicken me because the newness wore off way too quickly…)
Something from the sky must swoop
down and pluck them up
like cruddy bugs
never to return
(before they’d probably contradict themselves and put their size twelve foot in their mouths because they don’t know what they are talking about because they are just
jealous we have more share of the sun than they do from where they come from…)
With unwavering certainty,
you can stand there picking your nose
rolling your prize green and brown
between your thumb and forefinger
(I know, it’s a dirty job being so graphic, but someone has to do it. So, it might as well be me since as far as I know, If you ask me, I will likely admit I’m the designated writer for this page…)
thinking about that creepy eyed bogeyman
who’s thinking about jumping
your carcass from under that bed
you toss and turn all night in
the moment you finally decide to doze off
(and dream your little dream)
because you have trained yourself to
worry about that stupid eye shadow
color you think those girls in the office
will snicker at
(maybe, I should wear something dark like Elvis did.
Well, he got away with it even though I’m surely no Elvis.
Benjamin Franklin, I’m not, either. Possibly, partial Charlie Chaplin with a little Attila the Hun drizzled in…)
and miss that greater opportunity
which crosses your path only once
(or, whenever demanded upon an unjustified childish bratty whim)
That is, confidentially speaking of course,
that a sword forged from the bluest of red glowing steel
will bring down that paltry king of queens
so dear to you.
And, you will soon see, after that tyrant he-she’s gone
you weren’t so loyal to their lovely fingernail job as you had imagined…
And, you would have wished you were up in that cloud
in that vantage point alongside me looking down on the battle for the California
weeping tears of rain
throwing paper airplanes down to a crafty ruler who snatched all power away
uttering only one ecological battle shout.
The golden fury you would see
as all those ants below come yelling
holding up their banners
and silken hammers
in raging words and
hewing his enemy down
while our mouths hang open
in grateful dismay
a chicken pen
like someone creeping
deserting his team
(remember, you looked away and lost your weapon?)
But, your tailor didn’t forget.
he’s no foo…
(yes, I mean foo, not fool!)
For, He was the entity who fitted
you professionally in
your spanking new
shroud of dry clouded dust
pulling it tightly
around your head
so you wouldn’t notice
he abruptly interrupted your
patting you on your back
as he gave you one swift kick in your hindquarters
your time was up at the cut rate men’s clothing store…
‘here’s to keepin’ your head down, chin up, and stick in the mud, old boy!
And, by the way, quit flirting with my daughter leaning on that dimly lit red lamp post over there, she’s old enough to be your mother!’