Green Goddess (Un)Dressing

Most mornings I wake up
and it's under my pillow
as though in my sleep
I hid it from whatever might
take it in my vulnerable state.
This time I knew exactly
what I was protecting it from.
In my last bout of sleep
I dreamt I was in my last employer's mansion.
I urinated in his toilet
not caring that I missed a little
turning some of the small blue tiles green.
Then his wife came out
in a dark brown suede jacket
only it wasn't his wife--
it was Jane.
She had dyed her hair dark
or maybe the color she'd shown me back then
was the false one, but those piercing
blue eyes gave it away regardless.
She was older in the dream
older than me even
with fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth
that didn't succeed in detracting from her beauty.
I tried to tell her something
but my tongue was all jumbled
and she continued about her business
whatever it was
with a demeanor similar
to that which we'd both agree I'd deserve.
It was all too real
and when the alarm went off I was glad it was over and
only a dream, thankfully one I hadn't had in awhile.
That's the rub about ones like that--
they'll change your outlook on the potential
of the female form, for good and bad
and are far too clever and vindictive to disappear forever
even after the last call
which occurred on my way to New Hampshire.
But it didn't matter, since like I said
when I woke it was still under my pillow
and I stretched my limbs in preparation
for the day I was about to face.
That's the beauty of the sleep cycle:
it allows us to start over every twenty-four hours.
It's never as though a fragrance worn
for ten straight years has been discontinued.
It's never too dramatic to face
though sometimes a scream
with the windows up on the way to work
or a stiff cocktail before bed
or a phone call from your fiancee under that pillow
are needed to cope.
My bitch is in heat.
Where's yours?




Currently reading:
"Midnight Cowboy" by James Leo Herlihy.