The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 11/2/07

[BlueIris]

"Hey, Michael, You Were In My Dream Again"

someone was doing a commercial on the train, and wanted me in it;
she had a handheld camera and lots of little bottles.
I looked down and I was in my bathrobe, but it was o.k. because
I remembered
my whole room was on the train.

and I watched two little chipmunks scampering around
and tried to keep them from setting each other on fire

then I walked west, where the city gets quiet and green
you were in the yard talking patois with you mom and you sounded
so loving together, I eavesdropped.
we were all tourists in this city.
across the street stood an old album-cover peddler,
his vending cart all covered in white lights.
I said, it feels like Carnival, the whole city feels festive tonight.

you told me about an actress who'd died;
the city's tribute was a giant waterslide, and the genuine mourners
gathered at the bottom sobbing, getting splashed.

and did I go to the Botanic Gardens, too?
it was on an island, I remember the boat,
and Nina with her plump brown arms.
you were the only two people I could see clearly,
the only people who played themselves.

—Dorothy Hickson