I felt a brain cell die last night
in the midst of a dream.
Once we wandered through a house
owned by strangers and left our shoes
at the door. We wandered through
rooms and open floors plans,
each room a change in flooring,
carpet to wood. Furniture drifted
from soft stuffed fabric into chrome-framed
glass tables. Out the back door, I opened
my eyes to the rain-streaked bedroom window.
Drops shined, each an echo
of the street lamp, a flash of lightening
that burned my sight away.
Which room now, heavy slow breath
deep in shadow at my side, too frightened
to move to awaken what I could not
see, who and where. Closed eyes
again to find an end or escape
another door into tomorrow.
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