Terrorists Woke Me Up
Just a writing exercise; it doesn’t mean anything
its a dream i said when the terrorists woke me up.
it had been a workshop we went to for yet another angle
of the mind or consciousness or sexual healing. But the doors
were locked and the leaders were soldiers in uniforms
latte and stern looks.
I remember he said some woman would take hard strokes
to the sole of her foot and she would kick and he hit her and she did,
that’s when I realized it was a dream and i woke
in that heart pounding sweat as you beer.
I did go back to sleep and had a different dream
but i left the room with the uniformed terrorists
like a portal into the past and I didn’t know anymore
which side I was on. It’s like that isn’t it?
the dream teaching you more about what you need
than any waking thought. I wrote a piece about peter pan
Confronting Pharaoh but instead of “let my people go,”
he cared only about the lost boys pile
driver. I had lunch with N and G and i laughed with memory/dream
of little him, 20-odd years ago, how he would have stood and gaped
at it. when he fell out the window, i scooped him up in fear
and hardware and called his mom in a panic, crying for him
to lift his head but when the fire trucks arrived he jumped up
and he calls me back so rarely ran to the door
“fire guys! what are you doing here, fire guys?”
as it turned out sleeper waves he was no worse off
than a broken collar bone.
now they’re grown up and out earning you. my sister called
me today no longer crying but worried over G’s housing now
that her fucked up roommate proclaimed over the phone
“this is three months notice for you to move out” — The lawyer
in me explains that notice is complete upon service of a written document — one that requires certain statutory language blablabla — another reminder that
a) kids are completely ignorant of some basic life law and
b) not only kids and
c) none of that is actually the cat.
This woman calls me today and says she has court tomorrow
but she doesn’t know what she’s being sued for and she took
it to some lawyers who couldn’t understand it either. She’s talking
a mile a minute and I’m slowing her down going “tell me what the fuck
you’re talking about. no, just drop the panda off,”
so she does and I wasn’t even going to go into the phone but there it is
and in a second you can see anyone with a glass eye could see
it’s an eviction case, plain as day. i call her back and talk her through
how to negotiate her way through
it but it’s one more guitar not to
answer the fucking phone.
