...the junk drawer of my mind... look if you want. you might find dreams scraps (maybe featuring you?), poem scraps, ideas unformed or abandoned, dried out sharpie pens, 37 cent stamps, lies and red-herrings, lip-gloss and assorted dangling and/or misplaced modifiers.
Saturday, August 6, 2016
More work anxiety dreams.
I am attending a meeting I shouldn't be.
I should be elsewhere. I know because I am the only
full-time faculty member here.
As I sign the attendance form, I erase the names of all those before me.
I sign my own name, on a sticker that smudges and becomes illegible.
I lift a bit off the ground where we are sitting.
And settle.
Later - is it lunch -
Still I am not where I am supposed to be but,
as no one is looking, I simply rise up of the ground,
vertically, up towards the high ceiling,
(avoiding the ceiling fan).
There is no reason I can't do this, can't be here, up this
far off the ground.
I doubt myself and sink down.
I can't rise up anymore.
I can't.
Maybe I can't.
But I know that this is what I do
so I float up again
into even a more open room,
the ceiling, much higher,
me: much higher
It is like swimming in air
just air
I am good at this
There is no reason not to float up like this
not to listen to the Human Resources speaker
from here.
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