Dream
There’s a strange mold growing
in the wine we opened
And I keep having this dream
where all I do is turn my car around
in the parking lot of a church
I’m in this little pueblo town
This town along the Hurricane Evac Route
Where people bolt themselves to the ground
like furniture
in the lobby of a blown away motel
Their faces stagger
behind a curtain of hot pavement
And I keep saying to myself
that we’re far enough away
from the ocean’s drain
That the women are planting giant seeds
instead of tiny corpses in the sand
unedit 
This poem really grabbed my attention until the very last word …
Thanks Eliza! I really appreciate you coming to get grabbed.
This is excellent. I like how simply you present something with so many layers of meaning, so many possible interpretations.
Yes! That’s the fun of it for me, Jeremy. To see my words grow legs and slink off in all manner of weird directions.
I wonder where it took you?
I am not sure, actually. I have been having a lot of premonitions about the ocean, the weather, and the climate lately so this poem touched off more of the “sense of something brewing” which is with me so often these days. And of course the “Hurrican Evac Route” and ther “Ocean’s drain” are very tangible images for me (I grew up in Maryland and have spent much of my life visiting the ocean). And then there’s the church setting. . . I saw a mega-church, a true signpost of the times too.
Like I said, I am not sure where this took me. I will say that it grabbed me sensorially as well as sparked emotional and sensorial responses.
I pulled over to write this in the parking lot of a Mega-Church’s opposite – a gravel circle, painted wooden crosses and screen doors popping off what looked like an old portable building. South Texas ain’t Maryland. But like you said, there’s something brewing in the oceans everywhere.
I haven’t been to South Texas but I have been to the south and I know the old churches in pine groves, the mega churches too, the incredible heat and the feel of the ocean in the still watery air.
every line reveals a new image for me to fawn over & I’m too long in the tooth to fawn, but damn!
Fawn on! I grant permission, since I’ve never seen your teeth. 🙂
Thanks so much for reading.
Your writing is entrancing. Quite so. 🙂
ah, thanks again!
This is very nice…
Thank you, rj. Hope you’ll come back.