Rain obstructs the windows
And scatters the light from street lamps
Into illuminated circles on the sidewalk.
A woman inside closes her curtains,
Filmy and white,
Her silhouette visible behind them.
She looks at the droplets through the film
and slowly opens her mouth.
No one is in the streets.
Brick lofts with vines and semicircular windows
keep the sleeping people at bay in dreams.
But a little boy cannot sleep;
When he puts his head on the pillow
He hears mechanical noises through it.

There is a wild raccoon that lives in the vines and brambles
and bothers the people sometimes.
The raccoon is wide awake,
and planning mischief.
But when the raccoon goes to bed,
He will hear the noises through his pillow too
and dream of a machine that glows with red light.
He has this dream often,
but does not understand it.
He does not know that machine is machine,
and has only known red in dreams.

Posted in: Memories