Skip to main content

Shopping/Supervillainy

 Posting in response to Carrie's bonus prompt "Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings." 

Here are the threads of a dream,
Catalogued at 5:55 am; before the alarm chimes:
I saw Dabney Coleman in a shopping arcade
In some district of Houston that doesn’t exist,
Just as my husband avoided entering a store
Full of clothbound books and menswear.
I said nothing.
I stopped to admire a necklace—
A gold and pearl cross that echoed the silver one
My mom had loaned me and I had broken
In high school.
Dabney and his wife (the lady from National Treasure,
Tiny as a gymnast in dream life) asked the jeweler
To make us open the outer door and greeted us.
Then, asking us to wait, Dabney hurried off.
I tried to explain the cross, our anniversary weekend,
My mother’s call that there were too many people
And we should skip breakfast in the city to his wife.
I kept a mask crushed tight in my fist.
I tried to explain the perfect pictures of a light Texas snow
I was going to post later, the ones from the empty place we stayed in
Just…well, not too far…from the city. Further away.
At least another small city away.
Dabney had hurried to the executive inner tube spa nearby
And was hassling his father-in-law to get out of the water
So that everyone could have breakfast.
I haven’t thought of Dabney Coleman in years.
Awake, I wonder.
How badly do I want to be out amongst people again?

Comments

  1. Carrie Van HornSeptember 21, 2021 at 7:31 AM

    Dreams can capture so many moments of memory and throw them into one mall or place that either exists or does not. This is a wonderful capturing of so much of that Chrissa, from the necklace to Texas snow, and masks in hand. I think the answer to your powerful question at the end, is yes. It is yes for many of us these day. Thank you so much for participating in the bonus prompt my friend!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Once Upon a Future Past

  Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa
14 comments
Read more

Not Slacking, Just Writing

 So. My actual screensaver called me out today. Have I been writing much poetry? Is the doggerel below P O E T R Y? Yeah, probably not. However. The real story is that I'm working my way through a few stories for Camp NaNoWriMo. At almost halfway through the month, I'm still not sure what will end up under the pen on a day-by-day basis but I've added to several.  My reading has been similar. Lots of initial chapters or initial handful of chapters but very, very few final chapters completed. I'm thinking about taking a day and just clearing out my zine basket. Summer heat settled in early, so I haven't been doing any outdoor reading, but zines are pretty quick and I should be able to finish several while the squirrels raid the birdseed. :)  Hope you're having a good writing/reading summer! It must have been a movie, black and white, Watched when I was younger, maybe sick, Glancing between Mom cleaning and the screen. A father and his daughter in a lighthouse New ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fearsome by Survival

  Sharing today with T he Sunday Muse #189 , where Shay is hosting. Come and read and share a piece! On a web-white, wool-quiet morning I found the girl our stories gave us The one who survived She wore the meadow, carded and sewn Long since burned for field Still, she knew me Her stories named me fierce, feral She might have feared  The one who devours Neither of us spoke, patient at morning Breath, warmth, silence Innocent of power We know the stories kill us both We know that we become Fearsome by survival Hello and welcome. It's 67 degrees outside this morning and a warm December weekend might seem like the kind of thing that would prevent me from following through on a plan to hibernate with a good book for the rest of the weekend...but it's the doomscrolling that's run down the charge on my phone that's preventing me from doing that. Also, I may have developed an intolerance to long stretches of quiet during the past year and a half.  Anyway. Looking forward to r...
16 comments
Read more