A Sack Full of Dreams – A Poem

A Sack Full of Dreams

I went out to the backyard
before today’s sunrise
to get a shovel
so I could bury a sack full of dreams.
And also Jamie’s broken watch.
Not my dreams,
well maybe a couple,
like my parent’s picture,
and a ring,
but the rest
are leftovers
of various lives
clinging like cobwebs
and misplaced gumdrops
stuck in the dark corners or under the bed
for far too long.

Spring cleaning if you will.

I will admit to
breaking Jamie’s watch, though,
in a fit of anger when
the screwdriver gouged my hand
as I tried to replace the battery.
I smashed it with the handle
of the screwdriver
several times
little gears and springs
and other watch thingies
dingling along the kitchen counter and
regarding me
in a passive aggressive manner.

So it turned out to be a wind up.
Who knew?

One evening not long ago
Jamie and I spent a tender evening
conversing in my room
dirty work boots
on my dresser
littering dried mud.

‘Jamie,’ I asked
‘ye scallywag
ye varlet’

That morning we had spent drinking
coffee
and the afternoon
watching Pirates of the Caribbean
and Julius Caesar

(oh Brando
you make my knees turn into
mud slide ice cream

sing to me more
of honorable men)

‘Jamie,’ I asked
‘if you stare at the moon long enough
do you think you will
find true love?

Oh, how like Rapunzel you are
yet no more than
a whore’s choking hazard.
Your fucking tower is smoking
darling.’

‘My girl’,
Jamie slurred
echoing a youth spent alone, frozen
mornings
on the high plains
‘my dearest
plump bottomed truffle’
his Montana shine was on
‘il mio amore

fuck you
moi cherie
ye brackish mire
of slug piss.’

Only stale cornflakes this morning
before heading out.
I soaked them in milk
thinking it would help to
get them soggy.
It only complicated matters.

At the beach I set the car on fire
in a desolated parking lot
and by the cliffs at low tide
buried the sack and watch
in shallow holes in the sand.

Stuck the spade
into the soft, giving flesh
of whatever god
or goddess
fucks the waves
the shaft of the shovel sticking up
like a useless mast
and sat
watching the sun begin its ascent
the warm water
of the incoming tide
tickling my trufflely bottom.

And now here comes the ocean
to gather the dreams
into its bosom
and lose them in its abundant
emptiness.

Adios bastards!
Farewell all ye honorable men.

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8 thoughts on “A Sack Full of Dreams – A Poem

  1. dig your words man. dig what you have to say. not sure if what you are trying to communicate is what i am taking from it but dig it none the less. “farewell all ye honorable men.” they call us cynics but I am convinced cynics = realists

    • Thanks! I would say, though I did have an intent when writing it, I wanted to keep it open to interpretation, and have the reader approach the piece with their own preconceived notions to fill in the ambiguity. I appreciate you stopping by and commenting!

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