Dream 21/8/9 (Arvon)


The woman ran along the street,
at haste, into the next, turned
there among the crowd. Were there
children about her feet, one in particular
straggling behind? Something about her hair -
held in a kerchief by her hand - told me it wasn't so grey,
that she was concealing her looks.
I walk with my friends to watch them catch
the Jane's Addiction tourbus. As it passes
they stumble from their van, run off
and round the corner. I stand beside the van,
sure they've missed it. But they don't return.

When they do, they are joking,
don't appreciate their loss. In my huge appartment
I gather that the woman has murdered 3 children.
It comes through the wall. She wants one more.
The buzzer sounds and on the balcony
beside mine a boy - adult face, overgrown hair, parted,
slightly Indian in its cut and his roundy face -
is remonstrating - how he would be happy
to go. Faced with witness, intervention
I do my usual trick and leave.

The estate. I'm with two guys,
both sleeping.
Later, one of them spills a full cup of coffee on his bed,
balanced on the mattress
by his cocooned body
and I notice previous stains. I slip out,

pass a group of children - one with an earring,
his face very white, lips
swollen, malsized, off-centre and pouting like a burns victim.
He sits on a stone stair, four or five
others sat around him.

In the open, between tower blocks, dancers stood
awaiting a click of the fingers. Go girls, I say
and they jump into action, lean back arms
up against their heads like teapots, crossed legs.

I walk into more space, followed by two people.
The next group is young Christians. I watch and my proximity
sets light to the touchpaper. They
automatically start, throw shapes, sprinkle stardust.
I pass a doorway, and enter it. The two
come my way.