I Slipped From the Dream

I slipped from the dream just as it was getting menacing. Phil, a singer from college, wandered in drunk in the early morning, waiting for a party to start.

We had a goodbye lunch for Angela. “Are you seriously comparing vegans to ISIS?” “Yes!”

I imagined the raised eyebrows of coworkers when I brought in the nachos. Hey, leave me alone. Draw me a Venn diagram of our vices.

In the park the vendors worked to set up food stands for Madison Square Eats. Everyone sweating, painting, stenciling.

We looked at calendars. I e-mailed. We made up exclamations based on people’s names. Heavens to Josephine. [One-Syllable Name] Almighty! We planned for gelato. So much of today was about scheduling.


I wonder when BeyoncĂ© will have a song called “Hotfix.” Word autocorrects her name!

Waiting for the elevator I thought maybe some character will emerge that is not me.

I’m not really sure about this starting fresh thing.

I told Adam to slow down, he thinks and talks faster than I can catch up.

The basement is too hot. The blueberry skin got stuck in my teeth. I told two people I was going to Cape Cod; they said, “Where’s that?”

Lifeblood. Algorithms. Both good words. What did Tennessee see? Just what Dani saw.

We played on the beach with the kids. We built a sandcastle for a princess and a ninja turtle, with a great central tower and a long entrance road. I read a poem, it made me think of Andrew, I need to send it to him, he culls his Sufjan list.

I finally tasted that root beer that everyone had this summer.

In the darkening evening, the cleaning ladies sat together on the benches lining the park. The great hull of the building faded away. Let’s trade secrets and cigarettes.

Renewed effort. The basement is too damn hot. Put in your headphones, turn up the fan. News about the Pope, and trains couldn’t make it from Babylon.

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