Just Another Night in Dreamland
Dreams through the night, before the storm.
Strange dreams. Wicked dreams.
Zither music and Orson Wells making the introductions.
Murder and mahem and sex and
all the backdrops of the theatre of the bazaar,
Moulon Rouge with the Stones as the house band.
And you, performing to an empty house
that somehow, still applauds after each number.
You are not, as the billboard promises,
waiting for Godot. He is already here.
Probably on the zither. Laughing. Knowing –
the only one who does, what it all means.
About this poem.
Strange dreams last night. I had to get it out of the system. Sorry for all the references but now and again, they leak out.
The picture was taken at Mass MoCA.