Dream #23

Dust collected in corners
of this new home from lost jobs
and swindled wages, we are just
visitors. I say, you can always 
tell when someone is from Oklahoma. 

Smirking eyes bore holes 
through my thin skin,
they declare that you have 
to make your own reality,
leaning forward with hot breath
they ask what is it that you really
want to do? I stumble over words.

Bored with my non declaration
everyone begins to put
away the chips and plastic cups
before the red punch can be served
one by one each guest leaves and
I am mid doorway when I remember
drawers overflowing with socks- 
white, grey, Green-can I grab them 
all in time To escape this dehydrated dream?
“It’s all I’ve got” I beg. A slight blonde
bob soft mama edges pity me,
pushing out the word our door
winks, “Honey is that truly all you got?”


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