well. i am housesitting in baltimore's version of the country. pikesville. for my friends. their yard is the kind of yard that i remember in that dreamlike kind of way; not a particular yard but a kind. damp, shady, old, fragrant. like something quiet and victorian; the grandness is not grand. there are two dogs, henry and jessie. henry goes down the steps like a walrus and likes to force himself through my legs so that i'm sitting backwards on top of his back. then he starts walking and i'm riding backwards a ginormous yellow lab. jessie is a horribly ugly terrier type thing; they shave her like a lion and her underbite is such that she first scoops her food out of her bowl with her bottom jaw and then sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth to vaccuum it up off the floor.
i ate one of their (my friends') frozen macaroni dinners. i feel horrible about it. they didn't specify whether it was okay.
microbiology. it's really not that big a deal.
i could squeeze all of you up and
make you invisible
but what's it, matter?
my mind (isn't).
i would open you like a bible
but i would read you like
the weekly world news
threads doing threading
and a part, they go,
(like a log)
now i'm going to go watch the cable. i might wake up tomorrow and run around the beautiful neighborhood like i did today, but my body felt like it was put together all wrong, so maybe i'll just ride henry around the patio and water the geraniums.
in the dream, the dog is in the wheat not unlike something else