How about the ways that dreams
Demur to the reality that we live.

Dreams, the stuff of abstraction,
Giving way to the routine, the predictable.

Close your eyes, let the reels run,
Put to rest stasis, inactivity, all that is mundane.

Stay with the movie, the fantasy,
Right through the end credits before boredom returns.

How about the ways life conquers,
Defeating imagination, adventure, dreams.

Words are hard to find these days
Maybe they are lost in the breathing
Maybe gobbled up by a lack of interest.

A friend dreams, vividly I hope,
Once I dreamt, it was good,
Creativity flowed, life was easy.

Funny thing, hope,
When things are great,
It’s there, then it’s gone

Which is where my writing is,
Hopefully just lost in thoughts of fitness
Running, swimming, biking

A different dream, satisfying
Easier to manage, less compliant,
Hopefully, it will all come back together

That dreamy state, melding with the sweaty one
So I can get my swerve back on
For my writing could use a boost

Put a Latin beat on a Marvin Gaye song
And you better be prepared.
Leave the tequila out the equation,
Keep the whiskey away,
All will be fine.
It’s like Cheap Trick says,
“They live inside of my head.”
The dreams, the suggestions, the memories.
They’re all there.
Teased out by a song,
By a shot,
By whatever.

It’s not often I dream anymore,
Not of the corporeal,
Not of the surreal,
Not at all.
The days of the dreaming,
The nights of the dreaming,
They just don’t seem to enter my mind,

I wonder if it’s all over,
The excitement,
The uncertainty,
The causes,

Yet today, under a gray sky
My mind went wild,
Playing a cinema as I took a siesta,
One where the drama of man
Waged war against itself
As I documented its inhumanity
Without fear for my life.
I awoke to the idea of more,
More than work,
I was all too aware, however,
Of the danger in dreams,
Corporeal, surreal, or whatever their form.

A young man’s life has passed
Leaving opportunity to wasted time.
There are no revolutions to experience,
No adrenaline pumping scenarios,
No more.
There aren’t any stories of danger,
Adventures where survival was in doubt,
Where luck played a part.

Now the dreams are about paying for health care,
What to do when the lease is up,
Where to go after retirement,
And I’m scared.
I’m still young, able, wanting of excitement
Beyond this shitty lemonade margarita and
Comfortable suburban lifestyle
I have accepted as my way.
Protest, passion, play,
They don’t stop when the wrinkles arrive,
So why should the dreams?

I would love to know El Salvador,
Compton, Uganda.
I wonder if I could have survived
A career as a journalist, a night at CBGBs, or summer in Alaska.
What if I had just said eff it,
Where would I be now?
Chances not taken = chances missed…

Perhaps it was fear,
Perhaps duty,
Always a misguided perception
That there was a pattern to living,
One where the safety of it all
Is the way it is supposed to be.
True, after a point, but
A fallacy of a blueprint.
There was more,
There is more,
These morsels of life that I’m nibbling on
Only frustrate me when I hear what others have done,
The danger, the uncertainty, the courting of both
Where life, purpose, and meaning
Put away any thought of dreaming.

Because it is how it is,
It is the way they made it.

Perhaps today is a new beginning.
Maybe the cockles of my adventure seeking self
Will finally come to life.
Should it be,
I hope I am ready,
For a dream such as the one I had today
Will not burn forever.

Go, Hanee,
There is more out there.