I keep wanting to get back into my old habit of writing down dreams. The problem is if I wait too long after I wake I tend to forget them — and I can’t see to write them down when I wake in the middle of the night without turning on a lamp or getting up and leaving the room, which tends to wake up Geri.  Anyway, I apparently awoke sometime in the last week or two and wrote this quasi-poem.  I don’t remember writing it, but I found it just now written in pencil on the second sheet of a dull yellow Post-It Note pad on my desk.  I always hesitate to post poems about other people, afraid they’ll be taken the wrong way.  But as this is unequivocally an homage to one of my favorite artists — and I don’t have time or mind for a lengthy blog — here goes.  I hope it doesn’t disappoint anyone to know this was not a sex dream.


Zzzz Bra

I sleep in Smith,
a zebra print art tee
designed by the
agent of chaos
bunched at my chest.

I dream of
walking on thin ice
while sleeping in Smith,
wondering whether
he’ll feel me roll over.



* Self portrait — me in bed in the very same shirt last October *
(Art by Steven B Smith — get your own at http://www.cafepress.com/emcsquared1)

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