BY Nate Pritts
I try to remember a dream
so I can type it out clearly
My tired morning fingers hit
the letters in the wrong order.
The air is suffused with white light.
It’s never interesting when people
talk about their dreams. I change
my mood. I can’t feel fully good
about anything. So I take a walk
& turn right onto Franklin Street,
follow it until it stops
then walk slowly back
under the overhanging trees.
They barely hold back the rain.
I think about two or three friends
I haven’t seen lately & couldn’t
even if I wanted to. I try
to remember one really significant
detail about each of them
but am left feeling foolish
& too aware of myself. I like it
when I can almost see through
my hands. Almost everyone
walking has an umbrella –
dull purple stripes or polka dots
that try to be full of verve & pluck
but which seem collapsed,
a simple hectic mess which falls apart
& deserves it. I have learned
that rain is easier to deal with
when it completely ruins you.