ryan quinn flanagan | recurring dream

Recurring Dream

Every few months I have this dream
where I take my balls out of their sack
and play marbles.

I’m on a Spanish galleon
over rough waters
so my unruly marbles
roll all over
the deck.

I try to chase after them
but I have a legitimate fear
of water.

Didn’t Shelley die at sea?

In a boat
made of ideas?

Ideas aren’t waterproof,
that’s the first thing
you learn.

this deckhand with handlebar moustache
points to the horizon
and yells:

In the shallows
we run aground.

Like this dream
this poem


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