The Product of Your Dreams
Pillowed down stitched by
loving hands, worn by
life's strenuous duty to protect,
dancing with patches of hope,
draped over gears polished,
castor-oil tickling the
nose with the notion of fluid
motion, one spiky rung rests
upon a battered guitar-case
riddled with stickers
of gracious destinations and
ideologies in silent revelry,
pointing to the humming
computer loaded with
secrets and lessons, the stories
that sum up my lifetime of
experience and terror until
I close my eyes to find
the ether choked in the churning
wave of corporate distortion
plugging my mind with the lie
that solid rules over
liquid in tangible logic, greed
seducing promise in ecology
until the truthful elements
howl at the mournful
moon for the loss of me and
the product of my dreams.
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