one thing you have never
been is sweet
not sweet so i could tell you
my dream last night of the realtors
who sold me people from the past
disguised as houses
4:45 in the morning here
almost 1:00 p.m. in baghdad
which the radio continues to remind me
although it does not dare predict the suffering of the sand
as it covers the bodies and slurps up the pain of the wounded
the sand absorbing blood and lymph
carrying it swiftly down into the earth
as i lie here dreaming of realtors
i keep going back to the kiss in that dream
the kiss of the realtor
who sold me that girl from fifth grade
and even though she was disguised as a tudor mansion
with espaliered pears along the fence in the yard
i could tell she was all grown up now but with the same hairdo and nose
even though in real life those things had been changed
then there was the kiss of the second realtor who tried
to pretend he was you
he was dressed up like a person
with a keen sense of color
i had a keen sense of distress
at being once again bamboozled
also in the dream i needed to look at some pictures
here is c.k. who changed his name
and whose former wife once told me she'd seen aliens arrive
at her window in new jersey
she was crazy
but not because of the aliens
who may or may not have arrived
and not because of c.k. with his hair of butter and vinegar
and not (perhaps) because of her father who ran the orchestra
but because of her lies and a thought that arrived unexpectedly in the background
of all the noise she was constantly making
a thought like a rabbit you think that you love
who later turns out to be plastic
suddenly during the dream i understand completely
that i cannot be everywhere at once
and am pulled back in mind to the bookstore shelf
behind the boring sarcastic pompous cynical sloppy lecturer
with his greasy hair
where i kept looking at a book cover i thought was interesting
a white-greyish bed with a pink-orangey coverlet that was partly pulled back
and a figure sitting as if just getting up or just about to lie down or
just sitting there for a moment trying
to catch its breath after a sudden realization
or maybe some terrible surprise although the problem looks more meta-
physical than otherwise
from this angle
also there is something on the floor in the foreground
which might be a crumpled bag or a few dead
sweatshirts or
i don't know but the pity is
that the lecturer was so boring
i got all lulled up and forgot to go look at the book
when the lecture was over
and getting back to you
you will never be sweet
i realize now that whether things go well or ill
there's no changing your weather
and i still feel strange
in the dream i'm not sure i purchased any of those houses
but i did kiss those realtors in the face of the world's problems
and i'm sure you understand why i'm feeling very guilty
--Diane Wald, 2004