Outside in a Cool Dream
I yanked off my shirt and toweled off the sweat,
Tossed off my shoes all smelly and wet,
Stretched out my back on the cool tile floor,
Freed from the smoky heat outside the door.
I slipped into dreaming about walking in fog
With mother and brothers in sand we did slog,
Along the spit to Morro Rock one March day,
Relaxed, exhilarated, refreshed, and at play.
We sat on the dunes with the waves in our ears,
And sipped our sweet coffees all in good cheer,
Our toes in the sand, we laughed till we cried,
Then all sat in silence as the years drifted by.
I stirred, awakened, wondered where I could be;
Inside or Outside; a dream, or faded memory.
Michael P. Garofalo, One Short of a Baker's Dozen