Sunday, June 29, 2008

Saturday night sets in with a mean streak. All the lights in my dream are neon and I am floating in them, grey from my week. There are lists in me: pen marks and tick marks, circles around incomplete chores and double-underlines for things to be. My pen moves once, twice and thrice till there’s a bird in my mouth and a tortoise in my heart. We swirl around, dragging ourselves slowly out into my dream, stretching tight, moving towards the neon light. I rip through the paper, emerging blue as my superman.

Up, up, into the moon where there isn’t a tuppence a word rule.

I pour them all out and we devour pieces of moon-rock. The turtle is in my heart, the bird in my head. We sing, discordant and carefree as we eat moon-rock.

Before I know, my turquoise superman saves me and we lay side by side. With no gasps, shrieks or spasms. Without turn-on’s and hence, no turn-offs.

I like to go on forever, drone and buzz as I walk towards the moon.

What can I say, I dreamed of love for a change. I dreamed of all the hope there was