Monday, December 21, 2015

AFTER RANCHO SANTA FE

I dreamed I was staying
in a fancy hotel
during winter. The hallways
we're lined with red carpet
and chandeliers hung from
beams above our heads. 
The weather was so rough
that, from outside the crystal
Windows, I could see the ocean
and knew the waves would soon
crash against the panes.  
I remember thinking, this isn't mine.
I don't belong here; 
Turning away, I listened to
some talk radio. A commentary show.
It soothed me, in a weird way,
to hear some washed-up comedian 
going on about some stuff 
that was only vaguely amusing. 

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