Jan. 14, 2019


by Steve J. Burkett (author's profile)



On Monday: I crawled out of bed, bumped my head on the bunk above me hit my knee on the locker stumped my toe on the toilet.

On Tuesday: I was tangled up in the sheets, unable to move my legs, my hands were in a vice, I rolled off the bed onto the cold floor.

On Wednesday: my eyelids were pressed closed, as tight as a prison door, I pushed them open with my fingers only to find a dark cell.

On Thursday: I awakened with a smile on my face and bounced out of bed to the music of the Grateful Dead, playing inside my head,

On Friday: I didn't want to open my eyes, holding on to the last [?] of a dream, my Jeanne's arms wrapped around me, her body tightly against mine, fading into memory.

On Saturday: her morning kiss awoke me, I climbed out of bed in my underwear into my pants leaving my love behind in a dream, I will find again tonight.

On Sunday: sleeping with my love, somewhere in the stars, at midnight her thoughts brought me wide awake, I jumped out of bed wanting to decipher her dreams, I wrote this down.



Replies (2) Replies feed

arcadiaego Posted 1 week, 2 days ago.   Favorite
Dear Steve,

Thanks for writing this, I hope my transcription is OK. I really enjoyed this beautiful prose/poem.

danielle Posted 1 week, 2 days ago.   Favorite
Dreams were one of my few escapes in jail. I would always wake up and open my eyes and look down to see if I was still in jail and when I saw the orange jumpsuit the depression would set in. I feel your pain man!

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