It was a dream I had
This room was in the middle of a sandy plain
The walls were gone but the doors and windows remained
At the side of the bed were soft cushions
Two-dimensional ships like ocean liners sailed across this desert
As they passed, their huge bulks disappearing into a thin line
These ships were always full of people facing windows
I set off to find their port
It seemed like days, walking
Following deep tracks, the boats kept passing by
I came to an unmanned sort of harbour
Stood on the sand at low water
At which the larger boat creaked and lowered its doors
And one by one the ships descended to the sand
And sailed off in their different directions across the desert
The carrier was then refilled with ships arriving in perfect time
I watched seven or eight of these drop-offs
And realised the process, the ships and the people within them never differed
I thought about following any of these ships to the end of their journey
But suspected I would end up back here
Or a place so similar that I wouldn't be able to tell the difference
I can't sleep in this bed anymore
It's like a padded cell
The sheets are too tight
A strait-jacket bed
Spent?
A man of your success?
I'm tired of it
Uncurled at the back of the head
Walked over to the window
Climbed on the window-ledge
And jumped out
I wasn't scared
I know I can fly
A quiff, a whiff of smoke, an empty egg
Roses north (I don't know how long we'd been walking)
A front room (endless hours, weeks, years even)
Lino, yellow Formica (we didn't know)
Lots of milky tea (only onwards, forwards, onward, in, over a field) (I don't want to do this)
Unmatched to match the unmatched plates (the sun sets in the west) (I really, really, really don't want to do this)
Odd straight-backed chairs (this is where we started each night) (you made me do it)
Steamy glass-pane window (we could only travel at night) (bang, now, bang bang, outside the door)
Warped door, Embassy No. 6 ashtray (we would conceal ourselves in the missing light 'till darkness fell) (I awoke, ran downstairs)
Chewy chalk (nobody knew where we were) (a letter dropped to the floor)
Toasted cob, mustard (where we were going) (I bent, then the door)
Crinkly-cut chips, bendy fork (a vague sense of direction) (swang open)
Polyester, pink gingham (cracked my head)
(nothing told us where we were) (unconscious fell)
(we always somehow managed to keep a straight line) (I awoke, the dog)
(licking my dick)
