I'm dreaming that I'm standing in the river facing downstream. The river is littered with jagged cat's teeth almost as tall as my waist, surrounding me. I need to be careful so that I don't lose my balance. The river becomes thin as a brown plastic garbage bag and, as it stretches and snags over the cat's teeth, one can see that the teeth are sharp and white. The river is composed of the dirty metaphors of life. You didn't even wait for my bus to leave as you turned toward your car to go back home.
June 21, 1981
minor revisions added 7/17
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