Tuesday, September 11, 2007 (911!)
Last night I dreamed:
We had a stained glass flower on the windowsill in the study. It was yellow, maybe a poppy but probably an evening primrose—primarily the blossom, little edges of the leaves. It has fallen down behind the desk and I am explaining to Biker Buddy that it was irretrievable, but hoping he can somehow rescue it.
I also dreamed that:
Biker Buddy had sex with another woman and is telling me about it as calmly, casually and enthusiastically as he talks about beer and other women’s breasts. I amwondering, in the dream, why I wasn’t planning on divorcing him immediately. In real life, I would! (And I know that in the dream!)
I woke up upset and scared.
and wrote this poem:
Fallen
Behind the massive, immovable desk, a stained
glass evening primrose falls, shining yellow, small
sun, falls from the windowsill and disappears.
Irretrievable, I say, hoping I am wrong and you
will somehow rescue it.
But you won’t listen,
telling me instead, with the same enthusiasm
you have for beer and other women’s breasts,
that you have betrayed me with another woman.
When a primrose falls, it shatters.
Mary Stebbins Taitt
For Biker Buddy, from a dream!
070911 (911!), 1st
