On the empty road
I hurry to the amusement park;
No money, no tickets –
Forgotten at home.
I ask the driver to let me out
I want to call home for help.
I step out – the rushing streets
Stop under my footprint.
The sun on my back throws
My shadow onto the ground
Stumbling, falling down.
In the early morning mists
The gas station in front of me
Harbors a pay phone for fools –
Travelers like me, foolish to stop here.
I have a dollar twelve in change.
I pay, plunking the coins in
Hoping for my family to carry me away.
The grungy garage protects me
From the chilly morning breeze.
I feel the cold of a bad dream
As gray shadows cross my dark portrait.
I see my brother walk towards me
My cousin Steven has arrived too.
I wonder how they knew.
It was an accident they say –
Danny was going to work,
Steven for a Civil Service exam.
They leave me there as the
Gas station attendants creep out
From behind gray shacks.
Like a morning version of
“Night of the Living Dead,”
I feel stalked by white-jumper zombies.
I lock myself in the only car
Pulled up in the station lot.
All this for a forgotten purse?
The surrealism wakes me.
January 7, 1993
As you might imagine from reading this, this poem describes an actual dream I had the night before i wrote it. I included as much detail as I could remember into it.