D. R. JAMES

WHICH I DID

 

Last night’s
legit

big-lake horizon
looked phony-

perfect
for a musical, for

a song-and-dance
cast against

a two-tone
cutout. Then the wind

blew its
incessancy;

the surf
must’ve sanded

sandbars
to nubbins.

And above it all
I slept soundly            —

via un cabernet—
and acted out

the better part
of a howling

dream-set, as if
I’d survive and

live
to see morning,