By Kaitlyn Karol
I threw a stone in a river
saw Elvis on an elevator,
he was wearing those famous sunglasses atop his head
white leather, chic jacket and the king throne air he had
but I couldn’t talk to him – I had to run an errand for my friend
and she was talking funny about how she was sorry
that we had missed him,
but oh well –
maybe on the other side
we someday will…
I tossed a coin in a fountain
and wished upon its shiny face
but the sky opened up rain
and drowned out the wish, with none to replace
damn! what the #%*$ kind of luck is this anyway??
I must be dreaming in a stupid stupor, stoner’s language,
murmurs and moans in a mind-seized ice-cream freeze,
frankly freaky coma sleep –
freaked and frantic words and signs,
trying to rhyme yet getting stuck on the wrong mime!
and trying to stay asleep so I can rest deep -
but an alarm ring sounds off with a shrill beep!
and there is no more dreaming in REM state,
no more time left to hesitate,
to sort out all the figures and figments
of this weird hallucination.
Waking and walking through the morning's
boring fascination
I see them all again –
the glaring images of distorted mirrors
with blown minds as well as blown balloons
burnt lace doylies on fine crystal china
dancing, soft-furry cuddly bears
and masculine mice on mescaline
hovering in highchairs,
and then prancing off to the sewer’s muddy midnight stream,
making me wonder, was this real or just a silly dream?
Smoked ham at the end of a roach I smoked twelve years ago...
perfect blend of spice and sweet,
smoking the greatest grass, but not grass-fed meat!
was I high in my astral travels and nebulous strife?
Or is the ceiling caving in on me from my kitchen,
where I live most of my real life?
Little sidewalk worms protruding from an apple
seeking to rectify past sins
crawling into my bed, my hair, and onto my skin,
twisting my strands and seams into thoughts of redemption
closing in on my day dreams' suspension,
sweet temptation, a succulent kiss of passion
from wince I recall or who with, cannot say I do,
from where it all was born, of lie or of truth?
But hey, whatever happened to Elvis?
Oh yeah, missed him at that quaint little café
he was sitting there smiling as if he had never died,
eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich
and I laughed until I cried,
then pulled up a chair to talk to him
but he disappeared into the midst of a foggy afternoon
somewhere down a cobblestone street in London or maybe it was
some old business street in New Orleans
where the vampires gather to eat rats
and the barflies, refried beans...?
God only knows
where all those stones and coins go,
who could tell
when you throw them down
the rickety steps
of a subconscious stairwell!
Maybe they may
reappear in another twilight
or midnight zone…
for a while now, I’ll just be alone
waiting for the next screen saver to flash in my landscape
of the night’s most bizarre and baked
bedtime stories…
or maybe what I need to learn is that
hanging out in the kitchen too late
will induce these vivid visions
of such a strange and spacey state!
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