I once dreamed of a waiting room.

I once dreamed of a waiting room
where sunless light fell across dead shoulders.
Lists of life peered through

the glass, and I could pick my next life.
a gopher
a whale
a dragon of pixels
a man
an ass

and all where there that was not
here. A quiet room, with no
need for sound,

left actions lingering, falsely
awaiting comment or something

to judge the space between static

and infest. A normal dream, meant
nothing and more

seemed to project the out inward
but reversed for easy viewing. With
so many options I

couldn't decide
and what was the hurry. The need to

live after life was strong, like
the urge fuck and
maybe that

was it. I found myself
in the land of ice cream,

and all I wanted was cake.