take cover
dream, march 23, 2024: 'scars look like lights shining thru the holes in the sky'
“…when those grey winds blow, I take cover in my best friend's garage band nights, but head down feet in the sand weather in the palm of my mind only grants us one day to watch the fodder of our water wasted youth before this sorry world blows away like leftover dandelions in the last farmer's field...” — farmer’s field
The dream where we are dust returns…
They warn us on our spring break, Christmas holiday, Easter weekend, on first-school-day intercoms — the piano twinkling before the baritone bass comes crashing down: “Tomorrow, it comes. Take cover. A few seconds is all it takes.”
A clone of me, or a spirit split infinity, is in front of an open garage. I run to take cover there, or imagine myself doing so in the same time another version of me is on my knees inside a building surrounded by glass, covering my head, waiting for the world to go black.
We keep thinking this is a joke, a ruse, a conspiracy theory, a practice run. But the skies do darken and the earth hollows a familiar sound, one we’ve heard in recurring dreams, where dust to dust and spirit signifies a chosen few.
“What will death be like for me?” I stupidly wonder, cowering like a dirty dog out in the open on the cold, austere museum floor. “Will I wake up again? Will I see the face of G-d?”
Oblivion, the whirling winds answer.
“I’m a little bit over the gimmick bit
He’s cute, she’s cute sitting on the fence
Waiting for a rogue gust of butt hole wind
To knock em all off like bowling pins
Does that make me wrong? I’ll confess my sins
To the priest when he’s done confessing his
-
Yeah my
Paint me like your starry night
Oh cause I
Feel the time fly by
Slipping thru my fingers like a high
So paint me like your starry starry night”
— Dylan Taylor, “Starry Night”