Nightmares

The yelling in the middle of the night alarms the neighbors and probably terrifies my lover(s). If only I could stop dream-rodents from sneaking under the sheets, if only I could stop their squeaks, their little heartbeats, excited to bite my immobilized body, with just a psychological tweak.

I dream about plane crashes too, but I'm never on the plane, and there are no snakes. I'm just watching from the ground, approximately level, give or take. And I think, "That plane is flying too low."

Then, "Oh, shit!"

Blow!

The plane explodes in a blackened pit, and I run away from the flaming falling debris.

It's usually about three. See?
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Somewhere

Somewhere we are all thick and full of happy hugs, an airport arrival gate inside the chest. Stop! Drop your bags, friend, drop the hate, and drop that old lady behind you. Send her falling, flailing into our waiting arms. We'll squeeze her, but we won't get fresh, no 1960's Marrakesh, also without the bugs. There will be plenty of fresh back at the Home, old-fashioned charms, backrubs...at intervals with rest. In this air-conditioned space, we'll embrace her, kiss her face, and best mind her brittle bones. She's probably cold. She'll make old lady tones, and cackle, "Careful sonny," and give you a glare and give us a hard candy to share. It's sunny here. It was cloudy there.

We will, however, get fresh with you, maybe grab your ass. We'll grab your ass. It's been a while since we seen your ass and grabbed it as a treat. We'll embarrass you in front of strangers, share our body heat, but you know you crave that thickness, you know you love when we spread that joy. It elevates a man to boy. It's the meat. You like the meat. We all inside, though try to hide, really like the meat.
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Dear Conscience

You love the pain, you prick yourself,
Enamored, you're alive.
Efficient torture practiced soothes
The buzz inside your hive.

The lawn lies bare except for there
A ruddy iron rake.
You cast your seed upon its tines,
And garden in your ache.

Now curse these blessings that would speak
To give away your ruse.
Both God in here and mother dear:
You have so much to lose.
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