Words like punches
thrown at the rain.
present in my brain.
An enemy still a friend,
a friend still an enemy.
No, that’s not it.
None of it.
That’s not it at all.
Long tiring dreams.
Stirring me with confused
messages, blurry meanings
and nonsense that lingers
like smoke after a fire.
Old loves mashed with familiar
fears, between the uncertainty of
jumbled dreamy flashes, mixed,
swirled in colorful menageries of
I did not sleep, but lulled about
in a prolonged memory, flavored
with items of the present and
concerns of the future. To toss
and turn in mind and body.
My eyes were closed but I could
still see the trouble of choices,
past humiliations, embarrassments.
The ghosts. I could see the ghosts.
And they haunted my lulled mind.
The invisible, the indistinct, the
foggy, they danced, in the rain.