Soliloquoy of Busted Dreams

and Broken Hearts

by Dale Hudgins

 

This is a walk in the park,

this, this thing called dreams.

Easy to conjure, easy to lie to one's self.

I know all about and revel in this,

my mattress, predator of hope.

Can you hear me,

would you listen if you could?

Remind me later.

Determination of a tiger,

you have to have that to be one with Universe.

Wherein, in your mind, dreams lie awake.

Which one will make you hope, be happy?

We each must look deep inside ourselves,

for the good life.

But, tell me,

why are you possessed of this,

unpretentious need?

The girl next door.

Sleek automobile with flared fins,

as they roar from front to back.

Glass house upon the hillside,

stilted legs mired in concrete feet.

Dance lessons for your Cinderella,

tutu and pink leotards for rent.

Football, baseball,

soccer player's photographs,

arranged with pride.

Smiling bride,

alongside the crestfallen groom,

atop the vanilla cake.

The broken hearted hear these words,

some smile a rueful smile.

Me? I'm just here to dream.

 

Life, death, love and longing for ones already past...