Dream Sequence

Dream Sequence
Village not a village but a tiny western town, one main road, graveled, a young man walking away, a picnic basket hung upon his arm. A football stadium casts a shadow across the road, its metal doors closed, held fast by clumps of dry weeds. Cabins ahead, scattered in a grove of mossy oaks. The road divides: I follow the narrower path down into the mist, a mistake, perhaps, for I am suddenly alone and far from home in worn out shoes. In the departing mist a flat-roofed building looms: its rooms are clean, but empty. I wander until I find a door, beside it an office window gleaming with artificial light, someone recently, no one now. On the door a handle I pull to find a city waiting on the other side, shops and buildings tall and square and resolute, sunlight brightly playing. But the street, so beautiful, successful, and wide, is empty, no cars, no skirts ruffled by the breeze, no cigarettes in doorways softly glowing, no grateful clink of ice-cold glasses or boys and girls running. I close the door without a sound, wonder where to go, what to do. *November 22, 2005* Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author	Also by William Michaelian POETRY Winter Poems ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4 52 pages. Paper. �� Another Song I Know ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1 80 pages. Paper. �� Cosmopsis Books San Francisco Signed copies available Main Page Author�s Note Background Notebook A Listening Thing Among the Living No Time to Cut My Hair One Hand Clapping Songs and Letters Collected Poems Early Short Stories Armenian Translations Cosmopsis Print Editions Interviews News and Reviews Highly Recommended Let�s Eat Favorite Books & Authors Useless Information Conversation E-mail & Parting Thoughts Flippantly Answered Questions
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