Why are my stress dreamsabout public transportationwhen in waking life I drive everywherepining for a train commute?It’s always the same. On the busnot knowing where I’m headed,lost in a neighborhood mazein a city I know by heart, or riflingthrough and losing track of myriadbelongings for exact-change fare.Thing is, I’ve never dreamedof bill collectors, or war and occupation.You know, the pervasive themesthat actually stress a person out.But for a day of riding the train,or even a city bus, reading a good book,scribbling down notes as ideas come.That would be a dream.
This is #5 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans.