In My Most Scurrilous Dreams


In my most scurrilous dreams

I go to the shops, make tea,

maybe read, or walk around the house I live in

during the regular day.
I waste the chance to fly,

transgress boundaries,

to rub the lamps of sleep.

 

On waking, I smile at this,

knowing these ordinances of self-denial

are commenting on the surrealism

of my everyday existence.

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