Dreams & Castles - April 13

I wake from a dream that sprays

out of my face and onto the walls,

sails out my eyes and nose,

pools on the pillow.

Through blood, teeth, naked women, and goats, I see me in a van with the Air Force gypsy

who writes lyrical poems and hikes sheer cliffs near a Shetland castle.

Minutes ago we were steaming up windows.

I am now drowning in our mist,

thinking how glad I am to never have to clean another kitchen.