all the dried things

in the dream, i am playing soccer and
doing a pretty good job
running the field
but not so great
with all the dribbling/passing techniques
not hail but not snow either
swirl-sprinkling down from a 
cloudless bright blue sky
in the light of the santa fe sun,
all the dried things glowing gold/yellow

amy, jessica, melanie and i laughing loud
as we walk the four blocks from the lensic theater
(down a brick side street and past
the metal buffalo )
imitating the ridiculous questions
posed by audience members to nueroscientist christof koch

the swishpop of the seal
on a quart of pickles made from cucumbers
whose seeds i planted, 
whose starts i transpalnted,
whose fruits i harvested and
brined and canned
as i offer one spear to amy

supposed to be down in the teens amy says
in the evenings this weekend
as we walk brisk

under a star-winking sky


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s