Dreaming In a Far Away Place
In a motel room near an ocean
I dream in a rented bed,
listen to the scrabbling claws of small crabs
as they emerge from yet smaller holes
in the sand.
The little crabs are going to pick clean
the carcass of a dead horse.
The unfamiliar bed makes only
morbidly obese sounds.
It creaks like a leather saddle
and I am afraid that the scuttling crabs
will overhear.
Why do only the saddest words
invite us to hear more deeply?
Why do rented beds
transmit alien nightmares
as if a stranger still slept here?
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