Dream About the Beach


Everything is discordant as I dip my toes in the rarely-warm water,

the sharks direct their attention to my body,

so I move it out of their way,

less from necessity,

but from reflex.

A gentleman in maroon and gold stripes asks me what flavor of taffy I want,

but I look up at the gray clouds moving in,

and feel the common inability to answer any question,

that relates to what I need.

And when the creature who murdered my body outside the shelter of a dream appears,

 …to do it once more…

I shove my head into the sand,

and wonder why you have to ruin this space too.