stumbled home exhausted,
heat-sapped, leached of energy and motivation..
ugh..naptime..
and into stress dreams..
of drama queens, bad poetry, unspectacular spectacles..
-and heartbreakingly, devastatingly beautiful american indian boys, standing on my foot..
long eyelashes like spider’s legs surrounding eyes too green too be true..
moccasinned foot warm like a glove on mine..
he is with his girlfriend (whose hair is tight blond curls, whose eyes are grey..)
and i begin to wonder if they aren’t eastern european, czech, perhaps-
despite the fierce stare and mohawk and indigenous garb..
i don’t care..her feet are much too long..i’m looking down beacause i’m shy..
i wake up groggy, thinking of my lost brothers..
shades of them in my dreams as well..
misha..at the gambling parlour, in black gloves-
long hair in your eyes, wet eyes and cruel mouth..
a letter to snow falling out the backdoor into the dirty water..
lost, lost..
i had to lose you.
it couldn’t be helped.
will i ever find those bedlam boys again?
boys no more-
lost, lost..