one of those slow motion dreams


Pulled from an ancient stash of my poetry – what was I thinking?

one of those slow-motion dreams

they are all
running for an autograph
in slow motion,
cutting in front of me,
straining for someone’s signature,
a hundred pens thrust in the air,
but I’m not sure…

I’m turning around,
letting the book slip
between my fingers and
running the other way,
getting away,
getting into something
bigger than I can understand,
a fierce grin on my face.

goodbye goodbye goodbye


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