I had a feeling that someone was standing next to my bed, watching me sleep.
This settled into uneasy nightmares where I got dumped in the Home Depot lightbulb aisle for a cosmic stripper, who magically appeared upon the scene.
I ran and hid in the storeroom, wild in grief, sobbing behind the rows of refrigerators, among metallic coils. The store manager called a dear friend and mentor, who characteristically arrived in a timely fashion, and convinced me to leave the store. I went to live with him and his wife on their farm, and was assigned the task of feeding their ducks.
I am not sure if it is a poem of gratitude for their friendship, or one about self-doubt and general despair.
And as for the betrayal of being dream dumped: Do you ever get upset at people for what they do in dreams?
saybrook blues
you set me free for nothing.
free as a wild and broken thing.
free to mend the schism where
i faltered and fell from the first
lifted to another plane
free from freon fetters
and acrid suffering
free to hijack your stride
and your best clothes
following fallow furrows
free with webbed feet
tracking
free to love myself
you set me free for nothing
free as a wild and broken thing.
