You name it

At home, I keep this space clear on my dresser, in case my old cat jumps the gap from the bed to that spot.  And back again.  Like she used to.

At the hotel, I request a microwave for my room.  Popcorn for one.  I pretend to savor this time alone.
 
What am I missing?

A little orange cat, strong arms, sweet nothings.

You name it.

Dreams

Lately my dreams arrive with biblical bumper stickers.

My father's house has many rooms.
A little child shall lead them.

After a long hiatus, I'm back to dreams in which I liberate children who've been wrongfully imprisoned under false pretenses.  Often a teenage girl and her little brother.  I might become the girl escaping with the brother, with help that arrives from outside.  It's fluid, it's a dream.

Two years ago, in an unforgettable dream, a savior pulls up in a 1970s station wagon just when we need him.  He helps us get away from that awful institution in a hurry.  He's young, he's handsome, he's kind, he's strong, and he's existentially good.

He hands me a business card and says, with a smile of pure light:

"I am from the Church of the Northern Star..."

Since then I've felt that I have access to real help, the kind I need, when I really need it.

Mostly Blue

her colors are mostly blue 
devoted, I fine-sort these hues

she is a black child, with eyes so blue I gasp
she will echo every admiring word
then she will laugh and hug my neck

this is the best feeling I've had
in so long
both of us laughing

in later dreams
she is with missionaries
and not where she belongs

this is a deep game
to know this girl belongs with me
if I can bring her home
 
















 

So and So

I love you. So?

I love you so.