“dream a little dream of me”

sometimes in the many nighttimes I dream of ways

to dream a better dream of myself and The Future

but little ants crawl all over me and inside

of my nostrils and everything sounds

like the I Love Lucy theme song without words

slowed down to half speed and warbling like

some newsprung bird in its awkward spring

 

sometimes in the many nighttimes I dream the fan

isn’t mocking me after all as it whirs and

the eggs in the fridge aren’t worried I’ve forgotten about them

—how could I forget such a small thing?…

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