Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…


Why do I dream of beautiful things

falling apart, of useless relics underfoot,

of strangers in my home?

Are my dreams some strange waystation

for past, present, and future baggage;

a merging place for alternate realities

where outcomes are all able to occupy

the same space at the same time?

This is what comes from failing Physics in high school.

Why do I dream impossible foolishness?

What crossed circuit or over tired synapse

is responsible for my dreams of broken glass

and spilled wine?

My REM cycle seems to have a flat

and I awake, gasping for air.


# 197


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