[The worst dreams . . . ]
The worst dreams are not those
where one is chased by monsters,
or stands in line naked
waiting for a train.
The worst dreams
make long-buried betrayal fresh
and allow it to fester.
__________
THE ABSURDITY OF DREAMS
I recall every frightening detail
of a dream in which I'm lost
and a man selling corn from his truck -
I know him from somewhere -
won't drive or even point me home
although he knows the way
and it's not far from here,
not far at all.
The dream fog clears
as the new day arrives,
the sky's a robin's egg blue
for a restful moment or two,
but I still hate that schmuck
selling corn from his truck.

Happy Birthday to this blog and thank you to everyone who has ever visited this site. The first poem was published on July 21, 2022 (read that first poem here). It’s a labor of love and I hope you occasionally find something worthwhile here. God Bless us all.
And until we meet again . . . Someone please tell Jason Aldean not to worry, no one’s coming for Grandpa’s musket. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, consider yourself lucky.)
Subscribe to be notified of new posts by email; it’s free.
Leave a comment so I know you were here,
and please share this blog with a friend.
(Email may be delivered to a spam or social media folder.)
A New Poem Every Monday
(tho’ sometimes life gets in the way)
Joseph Neely, all rights reserved.
