Friday, January 29, 2016

Dreams are just like that.

A screaming fit about coffee
grounds, windowsills and 
There was the usual banging
together, he uses 2 hands to 
clean both the filter and the pot, clanging them on the sides of the ceramic pot. 
2 hands, Not one, but both, tap tap tap until I want to scream at him
and I did
you never, its always and he uses my words to not listen, 
makes sense as I am screaming. 

In my dreams I wander 
mountains alone 
looking for sasquatch or
bobcats or wolves. 
I sail the whole of puget sound in a boat
by stars. I photograph
wars and wear my 
dungarees on my hips, my belly 
still concave and my hip bones 
an anchor for the waist of my
 baggy and dusty jeans

But, really, its just another day. I wake up,
go to work, and when I can’t stand another minute of it,
Create a tempest in a teacup
as Melvin used to say at the AA meeting. 
And I scream, my voices rises the more
he ignores me.
then I say "fuck” a lot, but never fuck you,
because honestly, he’s the best person
for me, partly
because he ignores my
Im grateful
they are only a once
in a while thing, thundering when
the mountains
call, wars rage and
coffee grounds turn to 

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