Time isn't Passive
Last night
my dream ended with me
getting shot in the chest
the rest
is a blur. Just a mixture
of shapes and sounds.
All ground down
to a shot in the chest.
To the best
of my knowledge
I was not dead.
Instead,
I woke the next day
to texts saying my friend
was in a coma.
Fell off a ladder.
Hurt his bladder or spleen
or something in between
and I was shook.
I never took kindly
to people who blindly interpret dreams.
They tell you what it means
when XYZ happens.
I always think,
"How could you know?"
But when I woke up slow,
with a hand on my heart,
I didn’t part with the dismay.
I thought I might have been sick.
And this
was no news for a Monday.
Or any day that ends in “day”.
When your brother’s in trouble,
you double the panic.
Your mind is not
subtle or static.
You have no rope to fling him.
Nothing that will bring him
to consciousness.
And it’s not just this
that bothers you.
Nobody’s ever said
ALL they need to say to a person.
One diversion or another
pushes you further into
forgetfulness.
Then regretfulness.
Time isn’t passive.
Suddenly there’s a massive
bucket list undone.
A “Fuck it” list
unsung. And
no one knows how you feel.
Suddenly it’s all so real.
We’re always searching for a moral.
my dream ended with me
getting shot in the chest
the rest
is a blur. Just a mixture
of shapes and sounds.
All ground down
to a shot in the chest.
To the best
of my knowledge
I was not dead.
Instead,
I woke the next day
to texts saying my friend
was in a coma.
Fell off a ladder.
Hurt his bladder or spleen
or something in between
and I was shook.
I never took kindly
to people who blindly interpret dreams.
They tell you what it means
when XYZ happens.
I always think,
"How could you know?"
But when I woke up slow,
with a hand on my heart,
I didn’t part with the dismay.
I thought I might have been sick.
And this
was no news for a Monday.
Or any day that ends in “day”.
When your brother’s in trouble,
you double the panic.
Your mind is not
subtle or static.
You have no rope to fling him.
Nothing that will bring him
to consciousness.
And it’s not just this
that bothers you.
Nobody’s ever said
ALL they need to say to a person.
One diversion or another
pushes you further into
forgetfulness.
Then regretfulness.
Time isn’t passive.
Suddenly there’s a massive
bucket list undone.
A “Fuck it” list
unsung. And
no one knows how you feel.
Suddenly it’s all so real.
We’re always searching for a moral.
