DREAM

by Randall Rogers

I DREAM
OF YOU,
AND MY DEAD MOTHER.

WHEN I DREAM
YOU THIS BOLT
OF REGRET-DESPERATION
AND -- IT-COULD HAVE BEEN-
SO MUCH BETTER-
MAYBE EVEN PERFECT
FOR MINUTES--I SUPPOSE
THE FEELING

INFECTS
MAKES ME SICK.
LOVESICK.
SOMETIMES FOR THREE,. FOUR DAYS OR MORE
AND I DON'T ENJOY LIFE
IN FACT, I WANT TO DIE.
OR HAS IT BEEN ME WHLE LIFE THIS WAY?

AND, STRANGE,

WE PARTED
HAVE NOT
SEEN NOR KNOWN NOTHING
OF ONE ANOTHER
SOME FORTY YEARS NOW!!!

IN MOM DREAMS I ALWAYS WANT
TO GO WITH HER
BUT SHE SAYS I CAN'T.