A Dream of Washington (State)
I dream of Washington or a place just like it;
I dream of a place where the sun is gentle
and the rain is sweet, where the wisdom
of the trees is old and guarded, touching
the floor of heaven.
I dream of drinking coffee in the Q
and talking with Nat, the sweet little short-ass
with the wonderful gap-toothed smile.
I dream of being greeted with, “hello”,
and being expected to reply with, “G’day mate”,
and replying that we don’t say “G’day mate, its y’all
who say that really and the response
of a scream of laughter I never get here.
I dream of Dean wandering in to eat at the end
of his day’s work and chattering with me about
who knows what,
I dream of Mama’s and Ihop
and never knowing how to tip.
but I’m here and the sun is screaming
“summer!” on the balcony; it smells of traffic
instead of trees. The hell fire of Summer
is coming but soon Washington
will be nothing but snow.
