In My Dreams

I saw a penguin and flashed a smile,
Because penguins are so sensitive to my needs. 

I drove an old car to work everyday,
And never had to push. 

I played center field and crashed into the ivy. 

I fly fished 8.3 miles down Rock Creek. 
Caught a native cut-throat trout. 
Walked up the bank 
To the little house 
I remembered from college. 
Inside my wife and kids welcomed me
To our summer home. 

I spent May in Boston. 
Just walked the city. 

Morning hill country hunts 
End with a long walk 
And a short drive to great tacos. 
In an old truck, of course. 

In my dreams every weekend is long
And involves travel. 
Denver maybe, or New Orleans. 
San Francisco to read the City Lights. 

I walk in cool, soft grass. 
Putter through a square maze 
Of corn fields and soybeans
Beneath the power of four cylinders and mechanical brakes. 

In my dreams I write unfettered by conscience 
Or limited by talent. 

This poem was written in class with my students after we read "I'm My Dreams" by Stevie Smith ( I love Stevie Smith's poetry and the unexpected shifts. 


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