Sleep is one of my favorite activities and according to The Book of Birthdays, people born on March 1 (my b-day), need a lot of sleep because we have especially active dream lives. This poem, published just last year, is by Elaine Equi, a poet I only recently discovered but already adore.
Everybody Has Dreams
Last night, the cook dreamt a giant mouth dribbling blood
or ketchup. He has trouble relating to women.
The woman in the beige pantsuit dreamt of a computer that
transports objects into the future.
The woman by the window was a little girl holding her mother's
hand.
That guy near the door followed a melody into a forest.
The busboy was driving a sports car fast.
The skinny girl was a military general in a country ruled by a giant
inflatable cat.
The waitress murdered somebody. Even now, she looks guiltily
over her shoulder as she wipes the silverware clean.
1 comment:
I have felt like the waitress sometimes.
Thanks for sharing this one.
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