“What did you DREAM of, Marcus,
in that little snap of sleep?”
“That I danced with Vera Lynn
who made the soldiers weep.”
“Where do you get the energy
for that nightly trip to Mars?”
“From the looks of Flemish ladies
I meet in downtown bars.”
“But what about Maria,
your sweet long-suffering wife?
Doesn’t your infidelity
cut her heartstrings with a knife?”
“Oh, that is not the problem:
we share a love that’s blind.
For every other morning
we leave that day behind.”
27 October 2017.
Friday 10 AM. I’m dreaming again.
I keep on thinking it’s Sunday, and
you will be home from Connemara