Dream Man

In the darkened spheres of eyes,
In the doughnuts of the corpuscles of blood
Exists a space that is beyond time
And the temporal word.

A man walks down the street in early May,
In his head Chopin can be heard to play.
He's fighting his way to school
Through a muddied pool of thought.

The events in his life have all but superseded
The child. The recollections of a 'fifties house
Send shards of shattered past to the gutter.
The yellow lines blur his line of sight.

Aghast from spirits drunk in false glee,
Reeling against the tumult of the skies,
The man falls over, falls again.
His mother's arms waste sickly as he slides.

Home again for half-past-six and news
Of rain or murder or tales of whose is whose.
Flesh yields to fork, flesh fields of pain.
The whole damn business repeated once again.

Who is this man? more than half his life already lived.
A dream I had, I guess.

Cambridge, May 1993