Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 22, 2016

Ice-cream Truck without a Name Or (Scrambled Dreams)~by Norman Wilson



Ice-cream Truck without a Name
Or (Scrambled Dreams)

There are harbingers in her dreams
Yet never does she know what they mean
For there might be angels rising from the sea
Stealing steadfastly away in night, mysteriously

With stealth, she guides her dreams into the seas abyss
Where her scissoring thoughts fall within
Cutting and slashing in the grey of night
While the angels still rise from a sea waving, in tides

What could her dreams, really mean
Does it speak in whispers for her to see
Are the angels showing her the way-out from the abyss
As the harbingers of night, radicalize her nightmarish wish

She wishes to awake from her night turned insidiously about
For there are no ice-cream trucks with bells ringing out
As shots are heard on the streets in her dreams
While she keeps asking herself, what does this all mean

Pointlessly dreams come in the night
Some more threatening extending into fright
Yet she must awake into the light
To escape the harbingers and the abyss that drawns her sight

Rush away from the shots on the streets
Toward the ice-cream truck that she seeks
To awake in the cold sweats where subways pass by
As the angels keep rising on the high tides

The morning sun now greets her sleep
As she stirs to the smell of a fresh drop of rain
Wakeful of thoughts that robbed her slumber
Where she could only remember the ice-cream truck that had no name

All rights reserved 03/16/16
Norman Francis

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