I woke feeling I was in Van Morrison’s
song, Take Me Back. I woke from dreams
of Mom doing our laundry with the wife,
Ruth, of our landlord in their basement
on Mondays and hanging the clothes
outside with wooden clothespins
and watching the clothes blow in the wind
drying sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
And everyone was alive, felt, seemed
real and I knew, then, I was dreaming
wondering what such a dream might
mean and I lingered in bed on the border
of waking and dreaming, torn between
the desire for each. Dad asking, “A little
more coffee?” and now I am up, making
my coffee wondering where that voice
came from and thinking from the grave
which is six hours from here and how
even the voice of a ghost cannot carry
that far and think I must have slipped
in time, that no dream can hold such
reality and I look outside to see the clothes
on the clothesline and see nothing.
Sigh, sip my coffee, see the signs that
I have slipped out of that time into
what now is mine and whisper, “Take
me back. Take me way back. . .”
-Byron Hoot
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