EXITING THE DREAM HOLE:
Shellshocked expressions imerge from bleary dream holes.
The mocking light of a damp day offers chill hugs that cling
to the bone. The comforting cheer of festooned trees has passed,
reality grins, sharpening pencils on curb stones.
The early explorers of 2013 wrapped themselves in washed out
blacks, moth-balled browns, chalk complexions. Bumped around town
clutching limp bags, reluctant to return to full blown shopping –
milk & bread & instant coffee. It may not be your tipple, but
I need rhythm when the wick is low.