it is an unusual feeling
when the past
floods into the present
all those memories
you had locked away
behind steel doors
escape
creeping slowly
from the door jam
like a fog
rising slowly
and within hours
they are swirling wildly
around the room
suffocating you
and you try
so hard
to trick them back
into that steel
safety net
and you push
with all of your might
on that door
and you slam it shut
and reposition
that heavy lock
and wonder
frantically
how that door came open
cursing and kicking
biting and screaming
and you open your hand
a clenched fist
and you see
a muted silver key
a small bit of tarnish
in the edges
and you realize
maybe
you opened it
yourself
secretly wanting the past
to reeneter your present
some things
should not be memories
some people
should not be trapped
behind steel doors
with heavy locks
tucked side by side
with broken dreams
and childhood days
of splendor
some people
are meant to be
in your present
and in your presence
always.

wiggling my toes
under warm blankets
cool breeze
comes in from the window
sweeping over my face
i glance over at my clock
in the darkness of my room
one hour left to sleep
i love that
waking up
just to sleep again
cherishing
that last little bit of sleep
more sound than
all the others.

walking down a dark hallway
in my apartment
eyes straining
for some crevice of light
to highlight my path
no surroundings
feeling familiar
no corner recognizable
arms on both walls...
feet- dead center
manicured toes
brushing
the cream colored carpet
the walls growing wider
arms no longer reaching
the hall growing longer
the light - undetectable
and suddenly
my eyes open
and i am in my bed
a sun lit room
white walls
white sheets
cream colored carpet
and i breathe easy
it was a dream
me
in an endless hallway
an alley of perfect white
and me in the middle
lost in the dark
becoming smaller
and smaller
and more and more lost
all the familiar
all the recognizable
vanishing
...maybe
dreams are just mirrors
to the souls
trapped in the bodies
of the lives we lead.

so many people
go to vermont
every year
just to watch
the leaves change
they find such beauty
in that
i see
only
dead and dying
leaves