Dream, Driving, Rain #05-081725

I stayed too long in dreams
so much the day seems flat
and one dimension;
in my mind, the sander
still polishes the leg
of the man who said
“the body always feels pain”
as sawdust coats my throat
too much for words;
a crystal-blue rain falls
with wicked gold lightening
against the wide horizon
somewhere along I-90 in South Dakota,
an angel floating in the back seat
laughs at what we forgot to say,
urges me to Drive! Drive! Drive!
as if I am escaping something;
all the while my mind ticks,
like a clock pacing time,
thinking how to slip you a note
handwritten that says 808.81
and nothing more,
you’re the Sherlock Holmes,
you figure it out;
all these years,
the conversations in my head
and you, deaf and blind or
just resigned to dreams
like me, this morning,
wasting days away
before the knives cut out pieces of me
again, remember?
Like the last time you were here,
the both of us relieved to hear
“she made it.”