Last Night's Dream

The Western begins with a dust storm at night
savagely galing the horse-lined old street.
In an awkward apartment I shelter myself,
sharing a bedroom with four dear old friends
and their faces are all unfamiliar.
A younger Jennifer Aniston is there
but will not consent to sleep with me;
her gigantic closet has at least 30 switches,
but none will illumine the uppermost shelf
whereon, I am sure, lies the syringe
that will become crucial evidence.
Half-eaten turkey parts litter the floor
and we're all under suspicion
for a murder we may or may not have committed,
but free to go until the arraignment.
A brick in my pants delays my departure,
when I leave the flat all the others have gone.
I'm pursued by three nurses, huge and identical,
who gather to beat me with belts in the hall.
Slipping out to the street, I'm back in the dust
and the dawning light makes the cloud look like snow.
Running stark mad down the narrowing street
I dodge the dark figures moving all toward me,
emerging so sudden from the billowing glow.
My legs are yanked out and then I am flying,
pulled by a lasso, and from upside down
I can read the big banner
Welcome to Dodge
on my way out of town.