Email Poem

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Poem

I wake up in a bath of sweat
 I am late starting my journey
 Weightless clothes hide my being
 Protect the skin from reality, my reality 
 The garage door shuts up in a rearview mirror
 There is nothing else but emptiness
 The rose bushes prune themselves
 For an artificial Californian winter 
 Dislocated trees pretend to whither genetically
 Along the street I slide encapsulated in soundproof
 I ride in a bath of distorted forms
 Cannot figure out why the street ends up in stairs 
 I merge in an one-way freeway with ends of marine layers
 Curious eyes greet somber, slow and mute police lights
 I am finally free to fly and collapse in the Pacific
 Slapped by wreaths with my name in purple 

* 

A three year old with ash blonde hair jumps up her beach towel
 She runs towards the ocean in an excited déjà vu 
 I grab me with my two little hands and smile at my regenerated youth
 An obsessive dream re-occurring - our street ending up in stairs…
Again and again…

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