Dreaming of a natatorium
A green marble birth place
Fingering my mind
With vines of memory.
Mossy walls.
A deep pool of wine and
No shallow line marking shore
Dreaming over and over
This dream.
That day.
I always wish I had seen
The dawn that day.
Instead I heard the garbage trucks
Perfectly paced
Backing their honks of warning
With metal crashes.
Beep. . . .Beep. . . .Crash
Beep. . . .Beep. . . .Blast
Sound of Bombs Bursting in Air
Why so loud the last?
The dream was swallowed
By a Dawnless awakening
And never came back again.