10pm fallback position

and when I slap shut
the covers of the book
[and a bit of dust sputters
up into the lamplight]
the fortress on the moors
disappears
all the fish in the sea
are swallowed
in a maelstrom
the island of Manhattan
floats like a raft
out into the Atlantic
The shaman’s teeth all fall out

– hey
wait a minute!

No, of course not.
And when you put down
the book
and the cone of light
from the lamp above
the side table falls
on the tiny marks left
there where you
picked up your glasses
and it looks like
a secret code next to
the souvenir
matchbook cover. . .

– hey wait just one minute here!

and when we’ve traded
our colorful semi-new day sweater
for the threadbare navy night sweater
had our warm milk
[and two social tea
biscuits, which we can
never resist although we say
every day we will. . .]
and we settle in
to the cool of the pillow. . .
we decide that for the nonce
there is really no harm
in enjoying the preposterous
the outlandish the romantic
the disneyesque
the disingenuous or even
the downright grotesque

if – and only if

you can say in all sincerity –
as Jesus did
on one of his better days –
as long as you know what you are doing
it’s OK

. . . or maybe it wasn’t Jesus.

Still, somebody must have said it.
If you know the difference
between these fantasies
and those other fantasies . . .

dream on.

 

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