It could have been a dream about kites and tangled strings.

It could have been clouds in my over active imagination.

It could have been my subconscious telling me there’s

a message for you. I don’t know, somehow it’s all garbled

and I can’t tell if this is a dream or a poem.

 

I think back to when we were kids who could

fuck all day and come back for more at night.

The down side I recall was our irrational

fear of flying monkeys and an obsession with

the yellow brick road. We have grown up and

out of our skins many times since then.

 

I think we still harbor a wish to see the Wizard

and thumb our noses at the monkeys. The Wizard

and monkeys, kites and clouds, archetypes

for something we share deep in our collective unconscious

as Jung might say. The weird wonderful synchronicity

that drew us to one another.

 

So it’s only fair you should know there is a siren’s song.

Oh, she’s not singing to me – that could never happen –

but I hear it nonetheless. Now, all of this is happening

in my imagination and I can’t tell what it means.

It could be a dream about kites and tangled strings,

or a poem about the meaning of Wizards and monkeys.

 

The sky just isn’t the right color these days.

There’s something strange about the wind.

I heard someone talking about crickets and arthritis

which struck me as odd because I can’t remember

the last time I heard a cricket strumming his wings

in search of a girl, and maybe it has something to do

 

with the sky and wind. The cricket is just trying to get

some action, cricket style, not lure her to her doom.

The siren I hear doesn’t have action or doom on her mind,

she’s only doing her job, and a man like me

can’t help but stumble on the rocks.

 

Alright, this is a dream or it’s a poem, either way I wish

it would come to an end…you too?

Let’s try clicking our heels three times.

It could have been different.

It could have been a spectacular.

It could have been a dream about kites and strings.