The Good Fight
I am doing battle
in my dreams every night. High on a tower toppled
perched, not yet fallen; about to fall My job is to scramble
down without upsetting the balance. My job is to fight
off the intruder who calmly enters the bedroom. Says I
want you.
Last night the innocents left me (do I mean
the others?) the fight so real so real I didn’t go
back to sleep but instead consulted Emily
Post via The New Yorker. Mrs. Three-in-One, she
calls me. At my life party: I am apothecary, chief strategist
and custodial crew. If you think elementary school,
you’re right. I looked up perfidy, then stayed home.
– – –
Ah yes. Sometimes, nothing but a poem will do. Ask Miss Havisham.
– – –
The Big Island, Hawaii. Photo by The Scout.
West Coast Grrlie Blather 
Dear muledle,
Isnt’ it strange? No matter where you think are on the map, your dreams may point to a different location. And sometimes your sleep is all about fight and struggle, and sleep seems more work than waking. And all of a sudden, dreams become kind. Yours will.
Weird.
I had a rare, remembered, dream last nite. Or, was it real? I don’t really know. It wasn’t a pleasant dream. But, I came out victorious in the end. So, the good guys won as usual.
Maybe you don’t have to keep it all together all the time. Maybe some corner of it could fall apart and that would be all right. Can anything go under the rug or into a closet, just for now? Or can you get a massage?
We need to escape..hmm Hawaii, yes! and watch slow moving puppies (much better then fish in a tank).