To Inhabit Your Dreams
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today
i find myself
wanting
aching
longing
for
you

last nite
i had to
tear
myself away from you
too abruptly
knowing as i did
that i was keeping you
from your dreams
dreams that i long
to inhabit

what i would do
to inhabit
always...

what would i do
to inhabit
your dreams?

i would

punch tickets at the carny, eat 100 year old rotten chinese eggs, buy a quart of horseradish swallow it and snort it up my nose, drill holes in concrete and fill them with spit, pull a hair from my head and lay it carefully over a piece of paper with your name written on it in green ink, extract a toenail and burn it with a memory, throw a computer as far as i could then put it back together again to get back on-line with you, rip phone books in half with my bare hands or a power saw if i couldn't do that, roll out a red carpet for the queen then roll myself up in it to be thrown cylindrically into the muddy Thames, roast a marshmallow over my palm, fill my briefs with sand heavy sand and walk from the ocean to the freeway and back again, embed my elbow in a vat of glue and carry it there for a week after it dries, butter my toast with a mixture of honey and watermelon and pineapple to taste you better, soak my shoes in rainwater to slosh thru your dreams so you'll know i'm coming, wear the world's largest coat so i can fit you inside it with me, surgically extend my nostrils so that i can smell you up into my body, wear a glove for a moment then turn it inside out to stroke the velvet lining and pretend it's your skin...

to inhabit your dreams
i would do these things
and more
for you
who says fuck
and makes it sound
like an angel said it

too much, you say? why the bitter taste?

you make a solid point
about taste
so
i'll forego
the
rotten eggs
and horseradish
and focus on sweeter things
that i would do
to inhabit your dreams

i would:

burst a piñata in the middle of times square and distribute the candy to the homeless the nameless to diminish the bitterness of life that lives intensely in their eyes, slide down a snowbank on my naked ass then warm it back up on the hood of my car, pop an entire 100 foot roll of that plastic bubble wrap stuff one at a one at a one bubble at a time and capture the air from each in a jar in which i would also place a very shiny penny for luck, flail about in a wild dance to Love Spit Lovesongs, taking care not to thrash my wrists on nearby furniture but making sure to work up a big fat sweat which i would also capture in a jar but mix with orange juice and pickle juice to represent the liquid extremes of my desire for you, insert tiny ice chips under my eyelids to stimulate sweet chilly phosphenes in hope of seeing your image like a snowflake in my mind, cover myself in blankets like a tent with a flashlight and a pen and some paper on which i would write hot blanket love-poems by blanketlight and read them into the blanket air hoping they will reverberate thru the underblanket world one bed at a time across this big country of ours until they somehow reached you, collect all my thoughts about you and trap them flatten them preserve them each like autumn leaves between the pages of a book filled with pictures of butterflies and flowers and feathers and coral reefs, and i would save that book and keep it with me always in a pocket i will sew on my heart.

so, if i did these things
could i inhabit your dreams?

 

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Last Revised: Thursday, June 26, 2008
©Copyright, Glen Eichenblatt, 2006

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