different faces
Have you ever dreamed a nostalgic dream
about unreal people and an unreal thing,
and it felt realer than your life that day,
and your emotions frayed like wires that day,
though it never really happened?
Quelled desperate escapes from endless races, headcases
with stinging breaths and the light-headedness of steady paces,
pagans promenading toward golden idylls
while lavish lifestyles embolden their fated faces
bound by choking golden bridles.
Toilsome tedium.
Ad hoc ad nauseam.
Only feeling numb,
only full of helium.
There was a second
where the world stopped in its tracks
in the last place it should have stopped,
a set of polished-oak booths
for one across from one.
and where were you
and where was I
when pigs flew
and ruled the skies