Saturday, December 31, 2016

The Last Dream of 2016

It disconcerted and diverted –
both alarmed and charmed
and finally disarmed you
to observe this greenish creature
on all fours, who’d somehow
managed to invade the privacy
of your most intimate “indoors” –

the precinct of your secrecies
in sleep – the deepest cavern
of your reveries – on his knees
now in the middle of the last dream
you would have before you woke
into the last day of the year: not
a joke, exactly, that he’s here:

although he had the marvelous
intractability of comic archetype:
the sort who’d wipe his eyes
in disbelief at every oddity –
which in his case would be
everything he’d ever see –
which in this case had been you.

He cocked his head the way
dogs often do, wide-eyed
in bewilderment, wondering
if what he saw could possibly
be true, this strange phenomenon
of you, he’d never seen
a thing remotely as bizarre.

Now surfacing to wakefulness –
disconcerted and diverted, both
alarmed and charmed and finally
disarmed, you grapple with what
might just be the fun (more happily 
than un-) of this distracting fact –
“bizarre” is what you are.


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