i was reading 'on the road'. kerouac, right? born march 12, just like me. i'm holding the book in my right hand because my left hand, the fem side hand, the heart side hand, the love hand, if you will is holding a foot. not gripping it tightly just holding, kind of cuddling the foot. the heal of my hand is resting in the arch of the foot and, when i look down at them this hand/foot combo looks sort of like two fish, one swimming up the other down. pisces time, right? the owner of the foot is a blonde who face is obscured by her hair. she's playing a video game and the door opens and this guy is standing there. his pissed and obviously her husband (sometimes you just KNOW these things, right?). he shakes his finger at us and says, 'why don't you two just fucking fuck awready?', and storms out of the room. she turns to me and says, 'what the fuck was that all about?', pronouncing the word 'about' 'a-boot'. big canada cloo, fo shore. i shrug my shoulders and reply, 'you got me on that one...' and we snuggle closer together.
and i wake up
thinking
if all my dreams were like this
i'd understand the whole goddamn universe.
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