Sunday, October 6, 2013

poem : Night Vision


A little frisky poem ... but one of my favorites ... seems many of my girlfriends feel the same.
One morning, in Vancouver, I woke up, and this poem was in my head, or in my dreams, and
I just got up and wrote it down.  That was 1999, and it remains the same as that morning.


night vision

in my wildest dreams I see
my man has turned to ice
while standing in the kitchen
with his hand around a knife
 
so I turn the oven heat on high
and open up the door
then pour him in a bottle
from a puddle on the floor

he'll stay inside a secret cupboard
high above my head
until he starts to miss me
and spills upon my bed

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