the night train to denver

The Night Train to Denver

It’s risky
business,
transporting
contraband from
my dreams
into the
waking world,
because the
waking world’s
not awake.


The waking
world is
out like
a light
& dreamless,
a pink
hum of
complacency.


Maybe you
see where
I’m coming
from,
maybe not.


Maybe you’re
my dreams’
contraband,
struggling to
escape
on a
thought wave.


My dreams
may be
nothing but
contraband,
something that
can be
smoked shot
up or
loaded into
a gun.


Does this
mean we can
no longer
sleep together?


Sing songs
& go hiking?


What questions
to ask
myself!


What sort
of answers
am I
waiting for?


What’s in
the brown
paper bag
that I
won’t let
go of?


I’m on
the night
train to
Denver &
I’ve locked
myself in
the uni-sex.

Leave a Comment

Filed under poems & short jabs

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *