the other night just before falling asleep, leon and i made the mistake of discussing and also trying to a capella karaoke the song "detachable penis". remember that one? it was big on college radio when we were both in...well...college.

anyway, i guess it led to the dream i had that night of me going to a weekend long music festival with two friends but leaving him at home. and because i was going to miss him so much, he detached his penis and gave it to me to take along. well, as me and my girlfriend (who shall remain nameless) were sitting on a blanket waiting for the next musical act to come on, i took leon's penis out of my pocket so that we could look at it and i could prove that he really did have a detachable penis. she was at first kind of grossed out but then, i don't know, i guess the drugs kicked in or something, because she picked it up and was admiring it and stuff. i took my eyes off her for a few seconds to watch the band and when i looked back at her, SHE WAS EATING LEON'S PENIS. i mean, AUGH. big meaty chunks. it was almost like an oscar meyer weiner, too, absolutely no blood, just pink flesh. AND SHE WAS LAUGHING. i shrieked at her to stop and yanked what was left of the poor thing away from her. it was all rag-tagged and bite-marked. she was laughing and didn't appear to understand that she just completely ruined my sex life for ever and ever and i was crying. i shoved it deep down into my shirt, between my breasts, still crying and yelling at her for what she'd done and she suddenly seemed very apologetic. she said if i held it in between my breasts for long enough it would regenerate. i took it out to look and she was right, little bits were reforming, slowly; but at that rate it would take days and i was still really mad at her. i was cuddling the torn-up penis like a baby and trying to figure out how i would tell leon what had happened. he was going to be really mad.

then red hot chili peppers came on the stage and i woke up.

in my dream i was in a rambling old plantation-style house, it was my aunt's house, i guess. it was strange to find such a huge house in an urban area. her backyard was small but heaped with dark, rich earth and new plants sprouting in it, a large beautiful food garden, just waiting to blossom and produce fruit. what was odd about the growing plants was that it was an october day, too late in the season for new growth; thanksgiving. we came inside, to sit at a long table on her screened-in porch. the house smelled lovely, but it was cold on the porch. suddenly my grandfather sat at the table across from me, his fork and knife in hand. i said, "grandpa! you're alive!" he shook his head no, but smiled at me. suddenly an eerie wind kicked up, the screens started tearing at their frames and the door was slamming back and forth. my aunt was in the kitchen, i was alone with grandpa, the eaves were rattling, wind was howling through the rain gutters, lights were flickering on and off. i didn't feel afraid even though i knew it was the ghost of my grandmother creating the ruckus. grandpa heard my thoughts and said, "yes. she's jealous that tonight i am corporeal and her turn doesn't come for a long time." i tried to talk to her, to tell her that i would wait for her to appear, too, to not be angry. but she banged around the house still, overturning plates of food, tearing petals off the flowers in the thanksgiving bouquet, unearthing the roots of the food plants in the garden. grandpa just sat and waited for his dinner, looking eager and silly and smiling mischieviously at me.

i liked that time you
snuck in my chill night window
and stole the first kiss.

and when you once said
that all stories were real since
you found out myths matter.

i'll never forget
wet stubble cheek skin scratch
or breath tinged with rain

or how tiny gold
flecks float chocolate iris
a treasure; a lake.