Dream we had

took a long vacation. this was alien. white shutters swang like wings. flowers came up through the ground like erections in the night. the porch was glowing. the dish towels looked like shit. every dream told you a story about your brain. what kind of, what kind of person are you? It's like you see yourself in a photo and the eye tells you about yourself. and your mom tells you about yourself. and your doctor tells you there is a little hole in your heart, and cats sort of hiss at you in a silent way saying, "asshole". but the summer haunted you. the night was a deep tunnel. you found yourself deep into it without any memory of travelling. this is no surprise. you find yourself in the strangest of places, screened in southern parlors with the lace swathing the windows, cold old nights, outside, backbending over a car, surprised to find a hand shoving itself in the void. the night was a trail, a void, a trick, a secret shining cave. you never knew how beautiful it could be until you were in it, forgetting your way back out. you were always afraid of losing it. everything that happens in the night feels as though it has happened a thousand times before. in dreams, in stories. every distraction could cut your life off and start your birth in a new world. serious nighttime. to howl, to cry, to breed. to steal the world with a nighttime screech.