Strange Dream #09

I roam the slums of a jungle;

It is hot and I am always thirsty.

I drink from the

fountain marked

Colored;

It’s magic quenches

my thirst.

At 3 AM savage

sophisticates

jabber and howl.

“Who do you love most,” asks God.

“Jayne Mansfield,” says Max.

“And why is that?” God is so
cleverly all-knowing.

“She’s dead.” Max replies.


(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017 All Rights Reserved

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A Flight of Ideas: Little Reagan

I was under powerful witchcraft and hoped I was possessed.

I thought of little Reagan: the tricks he could do with a crucifix.

He was light in the head yet raised by circumstance.

Were I novelist I’d have written the story but instead I spinned
and spewed broccoli.

Judy asked if I was trying to vomit and I snarled, “No! I need a
fucking exorcist!”

Judy said what I really needed was a time out until I learned
to govern myself.

The staff carried me off before I could levitate.

I’m in seclusion and starting to think that Judy doesn’t love me.

Rob Goldstein (c) 2017 All Rights Reserved