there's a difference in me now.

the dreams have all but stopped--

although I miss these cinematic treks,

Himalayan hikes among snowbound

plundered poems, nighttime now

sleeps alone, with no pictures, bold stories

nor blundered roaming to entertain or hold

my body in the halting dark.

the days have changed as well.

it's as if the dreams have begun to dance

inside thin beams of light where oleander

and liquid amber leaves transform to orange

and gold,

amidst quick lunch breaks of wolfed-down 
turkey sandwiches, returning phone calls late 
and filling to the top with Arco gas at the place 
down the street once or twice a week

(I'm glad it's gotten cheap).

there's a way down now since I've been more awake

that feels like up no matter what map

i use or back street route i take.

i'm happy about that, a life moving past all maps,

my thirst becoming slaked.

the future ahead feels free as well,

i see it beckon beyond these hills and trees

through clear blue rippling air,

it shimmers like a lake.