Maybe I Can Be Trusted
Back in the 50s
We were served up this warm vision
Of sculpted cloud-high bubble-cities
Catered by sloe-eyed robots.
How far that silvery angel has fallen!
Where Dick and Jane are playing hop-scotch
In the rocket graveyard.
Now a giant bronze plaque proclaims:
The speed of light has been attained!
We have straightened the lightning!
What am I saying?
The general himself is shouting --
I am in the streets
Of the City of Sad Thoughts
Where people have become irrelevant
And I have just abused a small white dog.
I press this sweet dog against my face and cry.
The dog sees
That my soul is strapped to a beam of light
Vaulting through space.
I myself was abused
Just like everyone else
In this city.
I can hide nothing
From this dog
Who has become the moon.
Tell me what you see.
Maybe I can be trusted.
GARY LINDORFF is an artist, musician, poet and counselor / dream-worker who practices shamanic techniques, and who lives in rural Vermont with his wife and two dogs. (He is also Dave's brother.) His website is BigDreamsWeb