A Dream.

It was just a dream I had last night.

It was summer-time in my hometown and I was wrangling my hamsters back into their cages. A couple old high school buddies were over enjoying a black television screen lying on the floor with their bent legs up in the air. What was so funny about a television that wasn't plugged in? There was a danger in my blood. I felt something bad approaching as the wind blew in through the half open front door. The sun, however still high enough to light the town, was sinking and creating half-hearted shadows on my face as I peered out the window next to the half-opened front door. Barreling down the part tar, part gravel road next to our innocent, terrified home was a tank of only imaginary sorts. It was like a semi that had been flattened in the back and the cab was sea-foam green. An awful sound of Death grinding a dull knife on a broken sidewalk filled the ears of the neighborhood. Not neighborhood anymore. Our house was the only two-bath box spared. My hamsters in my grasp; the black one in the left and the brown one in the right, I raced to the back door to watch the semi-gone-sour make a crescent moon around the front and loop into the recently-uprooted field to the East. I watched the covered-in-sweat driver lift a bent cigarette to his sullen lips as his conscience danced around him in the passenger seat. He kept driving. My parents, not home yet with my new baby sister, had left a note. Watch for trouble and a solitary M to sign the simple message. At least that's what I think it said. My sister had been born sixteen years ago. It has taken a long time to bring her home. The black hamster in my left bit my finger. I stood watching the dust clouding behind the trailer that carried no weapons, no bombs, no danger. I placed the hamsters back in their cages and rejoined my friends in front of the black television.




I was just going to retell my dream to you, but it starting making its way into a sort of prose poem. I think I'm going to rewrite it later to make it more of a prose poem and take it to poetry class with me.