by Matthew Specht
i dream in black and white, you know
i dream of trying to run in waist-deep water
i dream of punching enemies with all my strength but nothing happens
i dream of wet hidden warm places surrounded by soft skin and gratitude
i dream of the end of the world
(i have a bag of chips, my wits, and a towel
armed thusly, my dear, we are safe!!!)
i dream of newspapers as wallpaper yellowed from the effort it took
to tell me the president is dead
and the drive-thru lady knows i'm on the floor of the front seat
and the woods are NOT lovely, dark OR deep
they are rotten
and wet
and would not burn even if you doused them in gasoline
lit a match
tossed it in
walked away and
waited for the warmth
and when i dream the dream where i fall from great heights
i wake up
wondering
if i survived