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I had a dream last night
of smashing a stone into another man's face.
There was nothing of his nose or his eyes or his teeth.
His blood splashed on my chest.
And as I hoisted the stone above my head
with your hand on my shoulder you spoke to me.
But I never did hear what you said.
A telephone rang.
And in Detroit, in an abandoned mansion
a policeman was strolling, he was warning me.
And at the foot of my bed he sat smiling, expectantly.
So I took the birthday belt from my jeans
slashing leather across his cheek.
As I swung and I swung once again
his skin bloomed like a flower hungry for the Spring.
I had a dream last night
I walked the road with my father's feet
and I could see everything I ever wanted
just floating in space.
I had a dream last night
of you on the floor on your hands and knees
and my fingers were strumming inside of you
and you had a microphone in your face.
I had a dream last night
you were on a train going East.
Over mountains and tunneling into the Earth
you had gone away.
And when you'd traveled as far as you could
you turned and looked back and you waited for me
but I was too fragile and frail to follow you
so I just waved like the sea.