staring back at me
stark reality or is it
just some dark fantasy
played out of tune
skipping along
hand held child's balloon
let go..cast yourself
a spell..knock three
times..scratch and sniff
what is it you smell..
is it something from
the past..creeping
into the looking glass
and so soon what
frightens you the most
is just simple shadows
imagined metal ghosts
postcards and the like
sent from coast to coast..
regards such as wish
you were here..and
the girl..knowingly
played upon your
fears..with suspitions
irony and lonely tears..
and so I was interrogated..
locked up in the dark..
for who knows how long..
and I dreamed of you..
and you came to me..
undressing, a rehearsal
I played over in my mind..
and then I awakened..
realizing it was still
1945..
