more dream-filled dreams

We dined at a very nice restaurant in a city I don’t quite recognize. The meal is quite good, but as we get ready to pay our bill the waitress inexplicably grabs the check from my hand and declares “I forgot to add your last drink and the paper — that’s fifteen dollars.” I was dumbstruck. “Fifteen dollars? That’s outrageous! I was just reading it because it was left at our table. You can have it back.” “Fine!” she spat, hurling the check back at me. Suffice to say, she didn’t get much of a tip.

Our taxi ride was equally surreal. The maître de flagged down a car that was new and luxurious but bore little resemblance to a cab. I seated myself and instructed the driver to wait for my wife, who had quickly run back into the restaurant to retrieve her purse. Instead, he took off without her. I screamed and banged against the plexiglas barrier until we were out in the suburbs, at which point he pulled over and asked me to get out. He sped off, nearly running me over as I banged against his window.

Half an hour after phoning my wife, it was a wonderful sight to see her pull up in a real taxi. We drove back to a parking lot in the city where our adventure first began, where our car was waiting for us — running, lights on, and unlocked.

this beer has my name on it...

guilty pleasure

mixed precipitation

I like to think of myself as a basically cheerful person with a predominantly dour outlook on life, always anticipating the worst to the extent that I am genuinely ecstatic when something good happens. As such, I’m not happy when it rains, but I expect nothing better. Combined with sleet and snow, it seems to be some karmic revenge for something I didn’t do. Unfair? Yes, but just as the meteorologists called it...

Saint Patrick's Day

It’s one of those days of the year that I am suddenly conscious of something I’m not (the other being Ash Wednesday). It didn’t even occur to me to wear green — just to blend in. And while the thought of a Guinness was certainly tempting, I instead sipped a hearty Tempranillo and envisioned myself running with the bulls.

perhaps now the vultures

perhaps now the vultures
will think twice
before scavenging
in this neighborhood,
where trash can fires
burn unattended
on every corner.
try as I might to forget
I still remember our first kiss,
the shiver of time standing still
and the taste of ashes.

headlines that could have been

slut got your tongue?

Daylight Savings Time

hard to believe I could sleep
through the hour I lost,
although I did wake up at one point
sitting bolt upright
eyes filled with terror.
was it a nightmare?
or was something much more sinister at work?
the illusion that we are saving time
by manipulating the clock,
adding sixty minutes to the hour
of our inevitable death.

zanaflex

the bland gazpacho that was once my brain sloshes around in my skull like cheap wine in a plastic goblet. I don’t feel relief or relaxation as much as a benign and mildly benevolent numbness. I lowly recommend it.

new moon

new moon:
just a romantic rendition
of “black starless sky,”
just a formless canopy
of wordless words.

dreamless dreams

I was walking the streets of a city I will never visit, lost in the rush of traffic and a sea of faceless faces. Descending into the subway, the mournful sound of an accordion is swallowed by an oncoming train. The musician’s expression never changes: he knows that he is playing for the ghosts who lurk in the shadows, just beyond those places that have never seen the light.