Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Three

(Note: This is probably a crap poem, and I expect it won't convey all that I felt when I was having the dream that it describes. I think that three is probably always a crowd, in waking life. What I do know is that for a few minutes, while I was asleep, I was happy from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.)

Did you ever see that show
That corny episode
Where astronauts land somewhere and
It's almost like home
And they're not alone?

Last night I dreamed
That I was unironically seventeen
Not old, not fat
Imagine that
And had hair that fell
Right down to my happy ass.

My blonde friend
Could finish things I said
Just like she could read my mind
And when we slept together the one time
Because we were curious and close
We were each other's mirror in the night.

When she found a guy
I won't lie, I thought it was the end
Of the thing that kept us connected
But he was funny and sweet
Swept us both off our feet
And made us feel easy and protected.

First he turned to her
Then he turned to me
It never felt like a crowd, just us living out loud
We circled and burned
A little constellation of three.

I remember someone said
That every star we see is dead
It's just that light takes so long to travel through the darkness
I looked up and saw
Then woke up and it was gone.

Did you ever see that show
That corny episode
Where someone lands in luck from out of the blue?
It's just a made-up fake
Interrupted by commercial break
And only fools and children think it's true.
______



  

and...

15 comments:

  1. Readers: please pardon the irrelevant Christmas message at the end of the second video.

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  2. Shay--I love love love the full-circle-with-a-twist beginning and end. The bits of internal rhyme. And the unexpected chance to listen to CSN&Y on a Sunday morning is always welcome.

    Crap? Definitely not!

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  3. Some people have the best dreams!

    "unironically seventeen"

    I love that.

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  4. Love your 'unironic' curiosities and then subsequent acceptance of gender inclusiveness.

    your wonderful in what you speak of and in keeping us grounded.

    Love it!

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  5. I so can relate Dreams can be all you have,sometimes, and they often represent situations of complexity to the point of absurdity, yet remain extremely comforting. Far from being 'a crap poem' this one picks up that feeling of inevitability, balance and perfect harmony of dream love well, and the stanza about the star light made me a bit teary. If only we didn't have to wake up...

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  6. nice...why cant i dream in threes...nice wrap from front to back...i rather like it...and think it quite and interesting dream...a little more rhymie than your usual voice...

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  7. It must have been hard to wake up from such a beautiful dream.......love the poem, and the people in it! And you!(while I'm at it!)

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  8. LOVE "unironically seventeen" "a little constellation of three" ~ NOT a crap poem, missy!

    i forget that the stars light isn't really there ~ i don't want to remember.

    i'm a fool cuz i believe it's true...

    hadn't heard that CSN&Y in forever ~ love it!

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  9. You're being much too hard on yourself. That was great! I especially loved the last stanza. Good way to sum up the entire experience!

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  10. this too is a true part of SHAY



    Aloha from Honolulu

    Comfort Spiral

    > < } } ( ° >

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  11. It's often true that the characters in our dreams represent parts of ourselves or aspects of our personalities that are undeveloped. We should pay attention to the dream selves because they may tell us something important. (That will be $100, thank you.)

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  12. Often the hardest thing a poet faces is trying to encapsulate a particular feeling... words can fail to clearly focus the picture we want to paint. But sometimes we have to settle for close enough.

    That being said (or typed), I think you gave it one hell of a swipe here. If it's not what you were shooting for, it must have been pretty darned close.

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  13. oh, I love dreams like that. I had one the other night only it was two guys and me. we touched finger tips and admired the young man's naked body and shivered.

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  14. I think we all think what we think of our own poems. But once you give the poem away, we get to think what we think. I know this is stating the obvious, but I loved this poem. I thought it was masterful and complete and lovely and evocative.

    Thank you

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?