Sunday, November 15, 2009

green light/not really an american

she was one of those people you just like to be around.

she was one of the original five, or one of the original six. this fascinated me.

we were headed uptown to the airport. then she remembered frank or billy, he was like a father or a brother to her. we went back downtown to look for him.

we split up to look for him. i was walking along a construction site and these punks were laughing and coming toward me with plastic bags of blue paint. they were going to paint me blue. then there were only two of them and i got away.

we were going back uptown. she was driving. i thought, i'll never understand the traffic in this town. the light was red. three guys came up behind us on the sidewalk, the two on the outside holding up the one in the middle. he didn't look drunk, more like he was spastic or had serious problems. they were laughing about something - " that sounds like something you would hear at macdonalds". something about playing ball - i didn't get it because i'm not a real american. the guy on the outside turned into a fish/basketball and floated on his back in the gutter.

the light turned green. i started to know it was a dream. i woke up. i never saw her again. i never knew who she was.


Jenny said...

This piece feels dynamic in a catapult kind of way. Reminds me of the song "7 and 7 Is". The color switching keeps up with the rapid pace. Excellent!

Anonymous said...

And I'm not a real Norwegian; I spend long periods abroad and I would never wear a "lusekofta".

This poem is a wonderful interpretation of a dream and it made me happy.