I had a dream last night that my daddy died, and smoke didn’t kill him, and my mother didn’t kill em, and I didn’t kill em and his belt didn’t hang him, and stray puss didn’t kill em, and his big truck didn’t kill em, and his gun didn’t kill em, Jesus, I wish I killed him . I don’t know who did it, but I’d like to give em a coke and a kiss! No, really, I’m a fool but it’s not funny. I’d like to know.
I was minding my business, swear, but they were talking so loud…
“There’s some destruction of the human society at play everywhere, ya know?
“Nah, I don’t, but I wouldn’t object if some quack in a lab coat told me so.”
“Man, it’s a mind thing, and yknow what? It might’ve already gotten you. Look man, drink a little more, you’re gone as God.”
Last night I dreamed me and you got close in a cabinet, a kitchen cabinet, my house. It was night time and we were hiding-us. Two African born dread heads. If only to look like we could defend anything. Our precious soft stomachs. We were hiding dogs in a cabinet- hid, hid from all those big world things that shave our nappy heads and eat us. Every shampoo commercial on TV eats us. Hiding from men trying to lay us out and make us maws. They're tearing up the house to find a mother a wife a baby. We've been here without water, so maybe they won't want our stink. But we could call ourselves Rob and Jim and they’d still chase. We've got no other choice but to lock our cabinets with us inside.
God, our brains? We can keep those till they rot.
The rooms weepy when you come to take me, heat bundled August, and the dogs, that tear throats, whimper at the toes of father, who, heavy as your tongue, is lightened when you seep through the window.
Holy mother, and brother and I, are not.
Last night I dreamed there was a bullet in my ear and every time you talked, it moved.
Dragged on forward…