last night i dreamt, aided by 18mg of melatonin,
that you were an owl, wide-eyed and wise,
flying beside a car that i was passenger in,
and when the window rolled down
you flew in and perched away from me,
all aloof and ornithactary in the front passenger seat
beside the driver, who was your lover-pilot,
and you cooed in throes of safety and satisfaction.
the night before, with only 12mg of the same sleep substance,
i was in the house i was raised in,
ancient in the neighborhood, and two rabbi brothers who taught in the school i was raised in
knocked on the door, and i answered –
across the way was a bacchanal as found in las vegas,
and they implored me to commit to judaism,
the ghost of my mother flashed briefly on that porch there,
and i told them i would not bow.
in waking i have all but pleaded that reality were a dream as well,
that i did not push you away, as i did two nights ago, the both of us sobbing,
and to you i have said that i made a mistake,
that you should take me back,
but you think maybe i’m right,
your world keeps spinning, faster, brighter,
while i extinguished the last light i had.