Dream Dust
This place is famous for shits and giggles. A real crapshoot throwing the dog ball. You never know where you land. Good luck, they say, if it splats you. Don’t open yr mouth. You’ll swallow too many midges. Something hard hits my forehead. Giant flying beetle. An eater of palms. What is your future? We have to dream bigger. Hippies working the crowd. Pulling randoms to the front in their balloon trousers. Performing their famous floppy dance. The slugs of love. You could feel it in the air. Animal surge everywhere. That’s a good one, she says. Here’s another one. Misty days. Whales snorting to Alaska. Libations and wicker baskets in Bellingham. Hemp hats and green glow. Drumming against the WTO in Seattle. That’s not a dream, she says, it happened. Yes, I say, my dreams are all nostalgia. They are all in the past. Happened or not happened, I say. Sweaty sex with slippery dildos. Wooden porch with whiskey and rocking chair. Built to Spill on the stereo. I’m 50. She’s 40. We wait for a hamburger from Big Al’s. The hamburger is late by a few decades. You are only honest in the bedroom, she says.
Pie in the Sky
Shut your pie hole. I tried to shut it, but it keeps opening. Shoving more pies inside there. Creaming your mouth with warmth. Grabbing a piece. Cos that pie is getting smaller and smaller. Slippery eels swimming in green sauce. Apple of your eye pies. Everyone loves the pie in the sky. Cos that’s where we are heading. That pie hole is growing wider and wider. The pie of pies. Sly pies. Piping hot pies. Smothering the sky.
The Great Stallion
Barking dogs make me want to pull the last straw from my head, but there is a lot of straw. It would take too long to pull the last straw from my head. Sometimes, I crave a glass of water. A tall glass of water enters my living room –the great stallion. My drought of desire is quenched by his great musty earth scent. He blows sexy smoke under his armpit. Rising clouds of horses. Muscled tendons. All shapes and sizes from his magic smoke rings. I stare at the cherry tip of his cigarette. He snuffs it. The water sizzles. Something pops inside me.
