Dream Noir

I used to dream of Kerouac’s
road but this one doesn’t
lead to Cuzco

but a maze of a city
where I lose
my car
my keys
my shoes
all cards
and papers.

In this dream noir
friends flicker and fade
the score pounds a
rock on my skull
maps are pointless
keys stick
elevator buttons
are bare of numbers

When I read the subtitles
I learn where I’m going.
Where all roads end.

This article appears in December 2007.