Genica's Dream

her dream car: a pick-up
black, and the latest edition of dmax

she is into the world of poetry
and she has more time in her
literature, and every day
she dreams of

words, punctuation marks of her life,
the period is rolling in her eyes,
and the future seems to be bleak
in the haze of her fogs,

there are mountains along the way
those that do not move by her command,
those that have old trees
and rocks and
pavements without directions

she will be lost, and then i will
whistle,

and then, suddenly the dreams are gone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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