DREAMING

RWP#100...Prompt is dreams


DREAMING

I left home a long time ago
in a tin cup on the track
with a suitcase of emptiness
looking for a landslide of answers
from the preachers of truth
dreaming
to be a madman painter
like Van Gogh
burn words of sick poets
like Kerouac
shoot crap with drunk hobos
like Mr. Mudd
stop pucks from the Rocket
like the eccentric Sawchuk
throw sliders and screwballs
like spaceman Lee
remaining speechless forever
because it takes two to talk
become more boring with time
to attract the ladies of the lost Zodiac
forgetting all the grades failed
because the schoolyard was a horror show
disturbed by my friends in prison
who couldn't be trusted to conspire
dreaming
to sing Your Cheatin Heart drunk
with the great Hank Williams
to be a drunk writer in Havana
like Hemmingway
to be a stoned jazz singer
backing up Billie Holliday
to be a poor elevator operator
stuck on the ground floor
to be a gigolo in Montreal
unconscious and healing the unknown
eating a smoked beef sandwich on the Main
with Leonard Cohen without his hat
migrating to some unknown land
with a ceiling higher than Christ
pouring whiskey to the converted
so they could thrive in the cold
listening to Trotzky and Marx
as they talked to the spirits in Moroco
sitting in Casablanca drunk
with someone called Bogart
travelling the unknown highway
unaware the party never ends
dreaming
of the broken radio
and all its guts
with closed eyes
not being afraid of travelling blind
with the Boys Of Alabamma
holding on to nothing
but the bruises caried inside the suitcase
unpolished
transparent
lonely
dreaming of home
dreaming.